Hold On
by MiniNerva
Summary: Yay! I chapterized it! For those of you who haven't seen this before, or don't remember it, it's about Dumbledore and McGonagall before Voldemort's downfall - what's happening around them and how they're dealing with it - McGonagall in particular. Sort
1. Default Chapter Title

A/N – The title comes from the Sarah McLachlan song of the same name. Part Two will be up in the next few days. I hope you enjoy Part One!

Disclaimer – What part of "It's all J.K. Rowling's" don't you understand? 

***

Albus Dumbledore pulled the door to the Potters' house closed behind him and set off down the drive, Minerva McGonagall beside him. They had just come from visiting Lily and James and their young son, Harry. Sirius Black's voice drifted unintelligibly through the open window.

"I'm so happy for them," said Minerva after a few moments of walking in silence. "Though I am perhaps a bit envious. I've always wanted . . . " She trailed off. Albus put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. They walked on in silence again along the dark road.

A few minutes later, Albus said, not necessarily to his companion, "It's a pity that Harry has to begin his life under the threat of Voldemort."

"Mmm," said Minerva, lost in her own thoughts. They lapsed back into amicable silence for the rest of the way.

Minerva sat in her study the next day, reading, when an owl flew in through the open window and dropped a letter on her head. Startled, she dropped her book. The owl screeched disapprovingly.

"Sorry," she muttered, digging into her pocket. She tipped the owl, shooed it away, and opened the letter. She read it through once, then again. In a sudden movement filled with rage, she stepped across to her desk and slammed her fist down on her viewing crystal.

"Albus!" she barked, and his face flickered into view.

"Yes, Minerva?" he inquired.

"Albus, Voldemort has killed the McKinnons."

Albus came straight down to Minerva's study. By the time he got there, the rage had left her, leaving her shaking with grief. 

"Andrew and Christa, Albus! They were my friends years ago. They were two of the best wizards of modern times! He's picking off the most powerful witches and wizards – first the Bones, now the McKinnons, who next?"

Albus pulled her into a comforting embrace.

"I'm sorry, Minerva. But we're still alive, there is that."

Minerva wiped at her tears. "I almost wish I were dead."

Albus stiffened, and held her away from him, gripping her shoulders hard. "Don't say that, Minerva," he said forcefully. "Never say that."

With an effort, Minerva swallowed past the lump in her throat. "I didn't mean it. It's just that everything is so unstable these days – I never know, when I say goodbye to a person, if I'll ever see them alive again . . . 

"Albus, I want you to know that, whatever happens, you'll always be my best friend. No one could ever, in this lifetime, take your place."

Albus allowed himself a small smile. "Minerva, I am a firm disbeliever in 'til death do us part.'"

Minerva finally smiled a bit. "Thank you, Albus. I feel a bit better now. But not completely."

"You'll never feel quite the same again. Once Voldemort is gone, nothing will be the same. There will be parts of us missing forever. Hopefully not literally," he added lightly.

"What makes you think Voldemort will go away?" Minerva said bitterly.

Albus let go of her and began to pace the length of her study, his hands clasped behind his back.

"There is a prophecy," he started, with the air of beginning a long speech. "Which foretells the coming of a great Dark Lord, who will cast his shadow over England for many years. The prophecy says that many will fall before him, it is assumed both literally, in death, and figuratively, once good people joining forces with him. I'm afraid we've seen too much of both in these last years.

"At any rate, the prophecy tells us that the Dark Lord will reign for many years before his downfall – "

"That's encouraging," Minerva said dryly. 

"Yes, well, as you know, no prophecy is carved in stone. The future is changeable. And I see no reason why we shouldn't change it."

"Albus, are you saying – "

"Perhaps . . . " he mused. "But I do not know. I admit I do not know what to do. The prophecy tells of a sacrifice on the side of the Light, which will bring down the Dark, but -"

"Albus, you're not thinking – "

"Yes, " he said slowly. "Yes, perhaps I am."

The weeks passed, and more members of the wizarding community fell before Lord Voldemort. Albus was growing restless, sitting at Hogwarts and watching the Dark Lord wreak havoc on the rest of the wizarding world. Minerva had never seen him like this before. She watched him dubiously as he paced like a caged lion.

"Albus!" she said sharply. He drew up sharp and met her eyes with his glittering, intense blue ones. "Albus, what is bothering you so much?"

"What is bothering me, Minerva?" He resumed his pacing. "Only the fact that Voldemort is taking over the wizarding world while I sit here and do nothing."

"You are not doing nothing. You are protecting innocent lives, Albus! Do you remember that? Does that not matter anymore?"

"Of course it matters, Minerva; I didn't mean to imply that it didn't. But someone else could run Hogwarts, and protect those innocent lives while – "

"Not just anyone could keep Hogwarts safe," Minerva interrupted.

"You could."

Minerva shook her head. "No. You are the only person Voldemort fears, Albus. Without you Hogwarts is as good as gone."

It was Albus' turn to shake his head. "Not true, Minerva. There are enough enchantments on Hogwarts to keep it safe under the guidance of a powerful witch or wizard."

"And what would you do?"

Albus sighed. "I am not sure. I already have a network of spies; we certainly don't need another. But I've been thinking of that prophecy, and of another I read, about a duel between proponents of the Light and the Dark."

Cold fingers of fear crept down Minerva's spine.

"No," she whispered.

Albus stopped and looked at her.

"Albus, don't. Please don't."

"I have to, Minerva. Even if I am killed in the process, I have to do this."

Minerva sank into a chair and drew her knees up close to her body, wrapping her arms around them. "I just don't want to lose you," she whispered. 

"Rest assured, Minerva, that I have no desire for you to lose me."

Minerva smiled, then sighed. "You do have a remarkable talent for making one smile in the most unlikely circumstances."

Then next day they began planning their course of action. It was decided that Minerva would go out into the world to gather information, and Albus would track down Voldemort and run him to ground, challenging him or driving him from England if all else failed. This was discussed with various members of their spy network, the remaining Hogwarts teachers, Madam Pomfrey's husband Peter, who was a Hit Wizard for the Ministry, and several Aurors including Albus' close friend and Minerva's former romantic attachment, Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody. The plan was, at last, agreed to, but unfortunately there seemed to be a leak of information, and Minerva was worried that Voldemort would attack Hogwarts before Albus could go after him. Albus tried to put her fears to rest, and moved the time of his departure to the very next day.

Late the night before they were scheduled to leave, Minerva and Albus sat in Albus' bedroom. They had been having a very serious discussion about the possibility of having a traitor in their midst. The conversation had not taken them very far. They had both intimated suspicions of various people, had argued and given reasons and attempted to explain hunches, and had not come to an agreement.

"There's just not enough evidence," Albus had finally said wearily. Minerva nodded disconsolately and sighed, dropping her head into her hands.

"I'm frightened, Albus," she whispered. "I think he might come tonight. I don't know why, but I do." She felt Albus move closer to her, and next second, he wrapped his arms around her, and held her until her trembling faded. She sat, safe, and listened to the beating of his heart until the candles guttered out and left them in darkness.

"Albus, can I stay here tonight?"

"Of course."

He released her, and she relit the candles. The two of them studied each other in the low light.

"Get some sleep," Albus said gently. "I'll stay up and keep watch."

"Albus - You need it more than I do."

But he insisted, and she was exhausted, so, after making him promise that he would wake her in four hours, she crawled fully clothed under his blankets, setting her glasses on his bedside table.

"Don't worry," Albus said softly. "Sleep well."

She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

She slept the deep sleep of the truly exhausted, but it was not too deep for dreams. Dream-images floated through her mind; images of what life might be like after the downfall of the Dark Lord. Some were terrifying, others pleasing. The images dissolved as Minerva slipped into a sleep too deep for dreams, a realm where nothing but vague shapes, sounds and colours could haunt her.

Albus sat next to the bed, watching her sleep. His mind wandered over various topics, none of them pleasant. He wondered what might happen if Voldemort did attack the school that night. He looked at Minerva again and felt real fear for one of the first times in his life. 

She turned over in her sleep, now dreaming of a time before the Dark Lord's reign; a time before he had threatened everyone she had ever loved, everything she had ever known. . . 

"Minerva," Albus whispered, shaking her gently. "Minerva, wake up."

She sat upright, and the both the blankets and his hand fell away.

"Has it been four hours?" she said thickly.

"Would I have woken you otherwise?"

"Thank you for waking me, Albus. Now it's your turn to sleep."

He gratefully took her place between the sheets. She put her glasses back on, removed his from his nose, and pulled the blankets up around his shoulders. The tips of her fingers ran through his hair, and he sighed, relaxing under her touch. She stroked his hair, to calm herself as much as him, and he was asleep within five minutes.

Minerva let her fingers come to rest against the side of his head, and looked down at the face of her dearest friend. In the absence of all other noise, the sound of his breathing seemed to fill the room. _What would life be like without Albus? _Minerva wondered. _Oh, God, if I lose him . . . _

On impulse, or perhaps in desperation, she got down on her knees beside the bed and turned her face to the ceiling, her eyes closed.

"I've never prayed before, but here goes . . . "

_Please God, if you're out there, please hear this. Please be with Albus tomorrow and forever, and keep him safe even when he faces the Dark Lord. I don't think I could stand it if I lost him, too._

She opened her eyes abruptly; she thought she had heard something. Fear crowding her brain, she got up off her knees. Wrapping her arms around herself, she sat down on the edge of the bed and watched Albus'chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm as he slept. Her ears were tuned to the smallest noise, the slightest sign that Hogwarts was under attack.

But all was quiet except for the soft hooting of an owl outside. Presently even that faded away, and Minerva thought.

She thought about how Albus would need every ounce of his considerable powers to face Voldemort. She thought about how she would feel if she lost him who was her best friend in all the world. She wished he did not have to face Voldemort alone; Voldemort was bound to have his supporters around him for protection, while Albus would be entirely alone.

_But did he have to be?_

The words of an incantation were floating through her mind. Her boyfriend had taught it to her in their seventh year as students at Hogwarts. It was used to transfer magical powers from one person to another. Minerva's boyfriend had wanted her to relinquish her powers to him. But that's another story. 

Would she use it to help Albus in his quest against Voldemort? Several years back she had read up on the spell and discovered a variation to it that could be used to only transfer a portion of the donor's magical powers. It was a difficult question that was really no question at all.

Minerva took a deep breath. She rolled up her sleeves and placed her hands gently on Albus' forehead. He did not stir.

_"Ego ipse largiri meus valere ad aliquis," _she said.

Instantly she felt a strange sensation, both terrible and wonderful, of energy flowing out of her hands into Albus. It seemed to last for an eternity. Minerva felt herself growing weaker and weaker, and finally all her strength left her, and she collapsed forward onto the bed as she lost consciousness. 

She woke shortly before dawn. Albus was still asleep. Minerva got up and tested her legs carefully. Everything seemed to be in working order, so why did she feel so weak? She remembered with a start and snatched up her wand, panic clutching at her.

_What have I done?_

She soon found that while she could turn a book into a pair of glasses, she could not manage her Animagi transformation or conjure large items from thin air.

"Oh, what have I done?" she cried, and lay down on the edge of the bed, tears leaking out onto the blanket.

Albus woke to the sound of her sobs. He opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling for a moment, then sat up. Minerva lay beside him in tears. He laid a hand on her shoulder and helped her to a sitting position.

"Minerva! What is it?"

She could only shake her head, scattering salty tears.

"What's wrong? Tell me," Albus commanded.

"Oh, Albus, it's nothing," she lied. "Just stress, and I'm so frightened."

"What happened?" Albus demanded.

"Nothing," she lied again. "I - I thought I heard something, and then I starting thinking about what life would be like if I lost you, and that got me thinking about all my friends who have been killed."

Looking not entirely convinced, Albus nodded. "There was no sign of Voldemort?"

"None at all."

He sighed. "We'd best get moving, then."

They were to part at King's Cross Station. Albus was continuing on the train, and Minerva was staying in London in order to attend a meeting with the Minister of Magic. They stood on Platform Eight a few minutes before Albus' train left.

"I'd better go get a seat," he said softly.

Minerva turned to face him.

"Albus, don't go," she said suddenly. "Come with me to the meeting, and then we'll go together."

He shook his head. "Don't make this harder for me, Minerva."

She started to say something else, but stopped.

"Well, good luck, Albus," she said after a moment of poignant silence. "I'll be thinking of you."

"And I you." She nodded, and he leant forward to kiss her on the cheek. She closed her eyes, and he was gone.

"Godspeed, Albus," she whispered, opening her eyes and watching his train puff away around the bend.

Minerva had most of the day to simply hang around London. She spent a good deal of it at the library in Diagon Alley, reading up on the Dark Arts. Towards closing time, she came across the spell she had used the previous night. Reading avidly, she found that in time some of the powers she had given to Albus would return, but she would never be at full power again, unless . . .

There was a way her powers could be returned to her, the book said. If the person who had received the power kissed the donor with real love, the donor's powers would be returned. Otherwise there was no chance of full replenishment; not even phoenix tears would have much of an effect.

_It was worth it, _she told herself firmly, and set off for her meeting with the Ministry.

Edgar Prewett greeted her with bad news.

"Have you heard the latest?" he asked her solemnly.

"No; what has he done?" Minerva dreaded what the answer might be, but when it came, it was not what she had expected. 

"He's waylaid a train on its way to France. Engineer and crew all killed. We're not sure yet about the passengers. All Muggles; we think he was just trying to display his power."

Horror struck Minerva like a death knell. She wanted to scream the name of her friend into the night; she wanted to break down and sob like a child, but all she did was whisper, "No."

"What is it?" Edgar asked concernedly, but Minerva could not seem to answer him. He seized her shoulder.

"Minerva, what is wrong?" he said urgently. "If you tell me what it is, we can do our best to fix it! Tell me, Minerva!"

Minerva could barely hear him over the pounding in her ears. Her breath was coming in short, painful gasps. 

"Albus," she gasped, "Albus is on that train. He was going after Voldemort – "

Edgar Prewett did not wait for her to finish. He gathered together a small band of Hit Wizards (including Peter Pomfrey) and Aurors as fast as he could, which basically meant calling on those who happened to be at the Ministry offices at the time, and they flew off on broomsticks.

Never in her life had Minerva more wished to Apparate, but it was impossible, because no one knew exactly where Voldemort and his gang of Dark wizards were, and at any rate, she had not the power to do it. So they flew. She knew that it could not be long until the reached the spot where Albus' train had been waylaid, because otherwise Edgar Prewett would not have had the news so soon. And sure enough, within the hour, they spotted the stopped train, off the tracks in a deserted stretch of woods.

Minerva pointed her broomstick down and dove, leaving the Ministry group behind. She hit the ground running and fairly flew over to the train. There were Muggles everywhere, held captive by agents of Lord Voldemort. As Minerva watched, a flash of green light from a Dark wizard's wand killed one man who was trying to escape. Children were screaming; the smoke drifting through the air stung her lungs. A group of Muggles was blocking her path, but she drew her wand and scattered them, screaming and crying, in all directions. She leapt off the train and ran into the forest. The Ministry wizards were nowhere to be seen. She thought she could hear vague noises, and she headed toward them. A moment later she paused to listen, and a familiar voice reached her ears.

"My dear Voldemort . . . necessary . . . all these Muggles . . . "

"Albus," she whispered, and stealthily crept closer. Finally she could see Albus. He was standing in a clearing surrounded by a small band of Dark wizards, facing off Voldemort. Before anyone could do anything, Minerva saw the Ministry agents approaching from above, Edgar Prewett in the lead, her friend Peter somewhere in the middle. From where they hovered, they could not see the Dark wizards gathered under him, ready to slay them if they landed, but Minerva could.

"No!" she screamed.

And all hell broke loose.

Albus shouted, "Minerva!" and lunged towards her; the Dark Lord took advantage of this and sent a deadly spell at him; he whirled and blocked it, countering with a spell of his own. Four Ministry agents were killed before they hit the ground, Edgar Prewett among them, and in turn the Ministry took out two of the Dark army. Minerva flung herself into the fray, battling for all she was worth, taking no heed of how much effort it took to cast every spell. Finally even a simple curse was too much for her, and she threw herself on the Dark wizard she was fighting, catching him by surprise. They tumbled to the hard ground, and Minerva felt his neck break.

In the midst of it all, Voldemort and Albus fought a battle as deadly as the one going on around them. But neither one gave an inch to the other, no matter how clever the gambit.

Together Minerva and Peter took out nearly as many Dark wizards as all the other Ministry agents combined. Several had fled. There were only a few left that were alive and conscious. Peter Stunned two of them, nearly sacrificing his life, and Minerva, with her last reserves of strength and some help from her friend, captured the last one. Gasping for breath, she turned to look for Peter. He was leaning against a tree, out of breath and holding his arm, which was bleeding profusely from somewhere above the elbow. Just then Albus, a few yards away, cast a spell at Voldemort. Voldemort doubled up, reeling away from the purple light that shot from Albus' wand. He straightened up, fury on his face, and said, "You've beaten me this time, Albus Dumbledore, but I know your greatest weakness now." And with that he disappeared before Albus could do anything.

Minerva collapsed to the ground as soon as he was gone. She could barely breathe, and hadn't the strength even to support her own weight. Albus dropped to his knees beside her.

"Minerva," he said hoarsely. "Are you injured?"

"No," she whispered. "You?"

"No, I'm fine, but – "

"Good," she said, and lost consciousness completely. 


	2. Default Chapter Title

A/N – I don't really have anything to say, I just feel like I should do an author's note. This part continues pretty much directly from the last one. Enjoy!

***

When she woke, she was back at Hogwarts, in the hospital wing. Poppy Pomfrey was staring down into her face with obvious relief.

"Oh, good, you're awake. I thought you'd never come 'round."

Minerva groaned and sat up. "Poppy . . . How long have I been out?"

"About twenty-four hours," Poppy estimated. Minerva groaned again.

"Where's Albus?"

In answer, Poppy strode over to her viewing crystal. "Albus!" she called.

His response was immediate. "Yes, Poppy? Is Minerva awake?"

"Awake and asking for you."

"Will she be all right?" he asked anxiously.

"I think so, yes."

"Thank God. I'll be right up."

True to his word, Albus arrived in the hospital wing within five minutes. He looked down at her, relief shining out from his eyes, and exhaustion engraved on his features. Minerva rallied her strength, swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and sat up. Her head felt light and her vision swam, but she stayed upright.

"How are you feeling?" Albus asked her.

"Fine," she lied. "And you? You weren't injured?"

"I escaped unscathed," he confirmed.

Minerva smiled. "Good. Is Peter all right?" 

"He's fine, thank God," Poppy answered. "It was just a deep cut; luckily I could fix it easily."

Albus helped Minerva up off the hard hospital bed. Poppy made an inarticulate protest, but both Albus and Minerva shot her a sharp glance, and she yielded to her superiors. Albus led Minerva up to her apartment, insisted on bringing her food and drink, and stood over her as she ate it. Finally she looked up at him, amused. 

"Albus, you need not stand over me like a protective mother hen," she said. "Sit down and have something to eat; I couldn't possibly finish this."

Smiling sheepishly, he sat. He shared a large piece of chocolate cake with Minerva, and then told her to go and get some rest. She reminded him that she had just spent an entire day resting (if being unconscious can be considered resting), and went down to the staff room.

From long conversations with her fellow teachers Minerva gathered that nothing of importance had happened while she and Albus had been gone and that the students were bored. (Though it was between school years, most of the students remained at Hogwarts for safety reasons.) 

In an unexpectedly foul mood, Minerva left the staff room and headed for her apartment. Albus intercepted her halfway there.

"No news?" he asked.

"None," Minerva snapped.

Albus sighed. Minerva left without another word and continued on up to her room in Gryffindor Tower. Albus watched her go, sighed again, shook his head, and went off toward the Great Hall.

Minerva's apartment was for the most part as practical and down-to-earth as she was, but here and there were beautiful things that had crept in over the years, gifts mostly. There was a pair of thick brass candlesticks on the plain wooden table under an elaborate wrought-iron chandelier. The walls were plain and bare but for a few exceptionally lovely paintings that had been birthday gifts from Albus.

Her bedroom had bare walls, a plain though comfortably large bed, and a mahogany bureau that had been inherited from her maternal grandmother. A small, stocky table sat by the bed, with a lamp sitting on it. The lamp had come back from China with a friend years ago. Its base was a porcelain dragon, and the shade was some sort of very fine fabric that Minerva was very partial to, with silk tassels hanging from the corners. The bathroom was rather larger than it needed to be, with gold faucets and a vast marble tub. It was naturally lovely, though Minerva had made no further attempts to beautify it.

Into this bathroom the owner of the apartment now swept, frustrated with life. She slammed the door behind her, drew a bath, threw off her robes, and began to climb in before stopping, adding some bath salts, and sinking slowly into the perfumed water.

She leant back against the marble wall, closing her eyes, letting total relaxation envelop her. Her black hair floated out across the water like a cloud. Her body ached from the battle with the Dark wizards.

God, she was exhausted. She had not realised just how very tired she was until she had got into the bath and stopped moving and thinking. She _couldn't _think now, and she wasn't entirely sure she could summon the energy to move if she wanted to.

So she simply lay in the water and let the waves of exhaustion sweep over her. They seemed to getting stronger; she couldn't resist them anymore. Her hand slid limply off the side of the marble tub as she slipped down into a deep well of unconsciousness. 

Screams from the direction of Gryffindor Tower roused Albus from his preoccupation. He jumped to his feet, then paused, listening intently. Yes, the sounds were definitely coming from the direction of Gryffindor Tower. No doubt Minerva would take care of it, whatever it was, but Albus felt that he should at least make sure nothing serious had happened. He picked up his wand and hat from his desk and headed for the door.

As he stepped out into the dark hall a small person came flying around the corner in tears. It ran straight into Albus and bounced back, spluttering something incoherent. Albus knelt down.

"Miss Kershaw," he said gently. "What has happened?"

"Oh, Professor Dumbledore," the girl sobbed, "It's the Dark Mark - in Gryffindor Tower – "

Albus felt as though a cold brick had just been dropped into his stomach. All those children . . . 

"Did you see the Death Eaters?" he questioned urgently.

"No - we didn't see anyone, but – "

"Where is the Dark Mark?" Albus said intensely.

The girl continued as if she hadn't heard him. "We heard noises, and we were frightened, so we went to get Professor McGonagall – "

"Where is Professor McGonagall?"

"That's when we found the Dark Mark, Professor – "

Albus seized the girl's shoulders and shook her, hard. "Where is Professor McGonagall?" he shouted. 

"I don't know," the terrified girl babbled incoherently, "I never saw her - her door was locked, not that anyone touched it – that's where we found the Dark Mark, sir - burning in green fire on Professor McGonagall's door."

In later years Albus never remembered how he got up to Gryffindor Tower. He did, however, arrive there in record time, driven by fear for Minerva's life. The Gryffindor students who were milling around Minerva's door scattered as he approached. In a second he had taken in the skull burning in green fire on the wooden door, the emerald serpent protruding from its mouth like a grotesque tongue. Without stopping he blasted the door apart with his wand, knowing that it was the fastest and safest way to get inside. Students scattered, then crowded after him. Once inside he stopped, turned around, snapped at the students to go and get every teacher they could find, and forced himself forward.

The living room looked as it always did. The bedroom door was closed.

"Minerva?" Albus called, without much hope of receiving an answer. "Minerva, can you hear me? Are you here?" There was no sound. He pushed the door slowly open and stepped cautiously into Minerva's bedroom.

There was no one inside, not even the corpse Albus had been dreading. A set of deep blue robes lay folded on the bureau. Otherwise the room seemed as neat and tidy as ever.

Albus crossed the room in three long strides and reached for the bathroom door. It was locked.

_"Alohomora," _he whispered, and the knob turned in his hand.

The bathtub was empty, but there was a half-full container of bath salts sitting on the floor beside it. A used towel lay on the counter.

There were no signs of a struggle. Albus began to carefully, painstakingly, search the room. There was nothing. Whoever had been there had certainly covered their tracks well.

Several of Albus' staff rather timidly entered the room.

"What's happened?" they asked. "Where's Minerva? Is she – "

"She is not here," Albus said shortly. "No, not even her body. I believe she has been kidnapped."

"Kidnapped? But why - what purpose would it serve?"

"She was closest to me," Albus reminded them sharply. "She has information that could advance the Dark Side very far, and they know it." He turned and began to walk away, followed by Peter and Poppy Pomfrey.

"Why the Dark Mark, though?" Peter muttered. 

"What?" Poppy said. She had not been listening; she had been lost in her own thoughts and feelings, for she had been Minerva's best female friend since their school days. Peter ignored her; he was watching the Headmaster intently. Albus' brows knitted together.

"Why indeed?" he murmured.

"What did you say?" Poppy demanded of her husband.

"I asked Albus why he thought they'd put the Dark Mark on the door." Poppy gave him a look as if to say, Why not? "Poppy, the Death Eaters have only ever used it before when they've killed."


	3. Default Chapter Title

__

"Crucio!"

Minerva screamed, screamed louder than she ever had in her life. Every inch of her body seemed to be on fire; she no longer knew where she was; her head was surely going to burst with the unbearable pain. She wanted unconsciousness; she wanted to die, to end this agony.

It stopped as suddenly as it began, leaving Minerva hanging limply from the chains binding her to the stone wall of her prison, her muscles still twitching every so often. She summoned every ounce of strength she possessed, straightened as best she could, and raised her head.

"I'm not going to tell you anything, Dolohov," she said.

The man in front of her laughed and hit her with the Cruciatus Curse again.

Minerva gasped, but did not scream this time. She held back the cry of agony that threatened to burst from her, though it cost her every bit of resolution she had. After what seemed like an eternity, the pain stopped.

"Changed your mind yet?" Antonin Dolohov sneered.

"No," Minerva gasped. 

To her surprise he did not perform the Cruciatus Curse again, but merely said ominously, "I'll leave you to reconsider that decision," and swept from the room.

Once he was gone, the tears came. Minerva was very hungry and thirsty, ached all over, had a raging headache, and desperately needed a bathroom. But these were nothing compared to the fact that she was chained to the wall in the enemy fortress, and no one knew where she was. Bitter hopelessness surged over her, and she began to cry in earnest.

After a time she stopped; she thought she had heard something. Yes, there were footsteps approaching her room. They paused outside the door, then it opened and someone stepped inside. It was not Dolohov, back to torture her again, but a younger man, with greasy shoulder-length black hair, a hooked nose, and cold, fathomless black eyes. He came over and stood in front of her.

"Professor," he said, his voice cold and silky.

"Snape?" she whispered, recognising one of her former students.

"Yes, _Professor _McGonagall," he sneered.

"So, you followed your filthy friends to the Dark Lord's side after all." Her voice was hoarse and throaty and nothing at all like her normal crisp tones.

"I have joined the ranks of the exalted," Severus Snape confirmed. Minerva thought she heard his voice twist sardonically on the word 'exalted', and it gave her a moment's hope, instantly quenched.

"I'm told you won't disclose any of the information you undoubtedly have," he said sibilantly.

"And I don't intend to," Minerva replied bravely.

"Are you sure?" Snape's voice dropped to a near whisper.

"Quite sure." Minerva knew that her voice sounded steady and strong, but to her it seemed to come from a long way off.

"We shall have to resort to desperate measures then," Snape said. Minerva did not allow any expression to show on her face.

"It would be so much easier for everyone involved and so much less painful for you if you would just tell me now," he continued.

There was a pause.

"It is rumoured that Dumbledore will soon be leaving for Germany. Is that true?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Minerva said. Snape moved so close to her that she could feel his breath on her face.

"Is it true or not?" he hissed.

"You always were a slimy sort of boy," Minerva said with difficulty. "Just like the rest of them – all those Slytherins you used to hang out with. I suppose they're all here too."

Snape raised a hand and placed one finger on each side of Minerva's throat. He could feel her lifeblood pulsing under his fingertips. "You'll be getting a visit from them if you don't tell me whether or not Dumbledore is leaving for Germany next week."

"I would love to see them again," Minerva forced herself to say. Snape's fingers tightened in anger around her throat. She choked; everything began to spin and her vision faded, then the pressure abruptly released. By the time Minerva could see properly again Snape had gone.

***

Albus paced his study restlessly, his hands clasped behind his back. His long strides carried him across the room in just a few steps, then he turned on his heel and paced back, back and forth, back and forth in an endless circuit of the room he knew like his own reflection. He had been pacing uselessly for quite some time now, his mind working fruitlessly for lack of information. He knew now what the Muggle detective Sherlock Holmes had meant when he said, "My brain is like a racing engine, racking itself to pieces."

He wore rich robes of a deep green colour. The matching hat sat on his massive, cluttered desk. A thick silver ring set with an emerald flashed on his finger in the flickering light of the candles.

Albus drew up short when someone knocked on the heavy oaken door. He paused, then went and settled himself behind his desk.

"Come in," he called. The door opened and Professor Sprout came in. She was a short, plump witch with her hat perched on top of her flyaway hair.

"Albus," she said gently. "You've missed dinner. Would you like me to send the house-elves up with something?"

"No, thank you, Penelope." Albus picked a piece of parchment and waved it. "I'm busy."

Penelope Sprout sat down in front of Albus' desk. "Have you any idea where they've taken Minerva?"

Albus shook his head wearily. "As yet I have only suspicions, nothing concrete."

"Nothing solid enough to act upon."

"Precisely."

Sprout sighed. "Is there anything I can do?"

Albus smiled tiredly. "Just keep the students occupied and out of trouble. Right now I don't have the time to deal with them too."

"Certainly." Sprout stood up. "I'll leave you alone with your thoughts now, Albus." She went to the door and opened it. "Tell me if you need anything."

"Thank you, Penelope," Albus said softly, and Sprout was gone.

He sat still for a moment, then opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a photograph. It was slightly faded and rather rumpled. It was a picture of Minerva at her graduation from Hogwarts. She was holding a bunch of roses Alastor Moody had given her and smiling widely. Albus stared at it for a moment, then thrust it into his pocket and went to get out his Pensieve.

The Pensieve was swirling with thoughts he had added to it that morning. He set it on his desk and stared down into it, then prodded it with his wand. The contents swirled faster. Piercing screams filled the room. In the Pensieve, Minerva was flat on her back, jerking and twitching, screaming in agony . . . 

Albus quickly prodded the thoughts again with his wand. The image shattered, then pieced itself back together. But this time Minerva was still and silent. Too still and silent. Her flesh was so white . . . 

Albus turned away, slightly nauseated. In a moment he went back to the Pensieve and looked into it again. It contained an image of Minerva, the brand of the Death Eaters obscenely dark on her left forearm. She dropped to her knees in a sickening gesture of worship, crawled forward, and pressed her lips to the hem of Voldemort's robes. Albus turned abruptly and left the room, now feeling definitely sick.

He went down to the Great Hall, where he met Peter Pomfrey, and the two of them sat and ate leftovers from dinner while they talked.

"Any idea where Voldemort is hiding out, Albus?" Peter asked.

Albus shook his head, his mouth full of steak and kidney pie.

"He's not in England, I don't think," Peter mused.

"You don't?" Albus raised his eyebrows.

"No. I don't. I think they're probably in Germany, or France still, or perhaps Ireland. Maybe Scotland."

"Wales?"

"Perhaps. I don't think they're on the other side of the world, by any means, but I also don't think they're very close to us. I think the Dark Lord would not like to be too close to you, for fear you might find him more easily."

Albus nodded. "What you say makes sense, Peter."

"Do you agree, then?"

"I'm not sure yet. But it does give me something to think about, for which I'm grateful." They went back to their food and ate in silence for a few more minutes. "I don't believe Voldemort is still in France," Albus said suddenly. "He knows I knew he was there. I don't think he would have stayed there. Germany, however . . . "

"Unfortunately there is nothing to say which of the other possibilities is the most likely is there?"

Albus sighed. "Unfortunately there is no information whatsoever."

***

Minerva groaned and tried to shift to a more comfortable position, which was fairly impossible considering that she was still chained to the wall and every cell of her body ached, smarted or hurt sharply, depending on what had happened to that part of her. She had been subjected to almost every form of torture the Death Eaters knew, and still had told them nothing. She wished they would just give up and kill her.

_Don't think like that, Minerva McGonagall, _she told herself. _Albus will find you eventually. Just hold out until then._

She tried to ease her shoulders, but gasped as she moved. Tears came to her eyes, but she bit them back with an effort and tried to ignore the pain, staring stonily at the opposite wall. The pain could not be stomached entirely, however, and fear and hopelessness seemed to be rising in her throat in a lump that could not be swallowed.

***

Albus had gone into London for the day; there had been a meeting at the Ministry, and they had wanted him present. Now the meeting was over, and he was sitting across from Alastor Moody at a table in the Leaky Cauldron, sipping a glass of brandy. 

"So," said Moody in his gravelly voice, "How long has it been since Minerva disappeared?"

"This is the fourth day," Albus said heavily. "And I am no closer to finding her than I was the evening she disappeared."

"Haven't your spies found anything yet?"

"Voldemort is hiding himself well. They have found nothing. There is a complete and depressing lack of information."

Moody shifted his weight on his chair and signalled for another brandy for his companion. "To be honest with you, Albus," he said. "The Ministry isn't doing too well either." Albus's brandy was set down in front of him. He picked it up and took a long, slow draught, feeling the strong alcohol burning down his throat. Moody took a drink from his hip flask and then held it up in front of him and gazed at it.

"But you have to find Minerva soon," he mused, "or there won't be anything left of her to find."

Albus choked, and it was only with difficulty that he managed to swallow his mouthful of brandy.

"We were involved once," Moody went on, "I even thought it might last forever. I guess I was wrong. I'd like to warn you, Albus, as a friend – " Moody leaned forward confidentially " - don't get too involved with Minerva. She ended everything we had just when I felt we were closest. I think she's a little scared to get serious with anyone for fear of them turning out like Tom Riddle."

There was a silence, during which Moody sat back and took another draught from his hip flask.

"What makes you think I want to get more involved with Minerva?" Albus said hoarsely.

Moody smiled, making his scarred and mutilated face look yet more twisted, and said simply, "I've known you a long time. I can tell."

"But I haven't – " Albus began, but Moody stood up to leave

"Look in your pocket, Albus," he said. He clapped the older man on the back and left the pub.

Albus put a hand into his pocket and came out with the photograph of Minerva he had found in his desk at Hogwarts. He stared at it for a moment, then looked up at Moody's retreating back, then back down at the photograph. It smiled happily and waved. Albus' tired blue eyes gazed down at it. Minerva's own eyes were sparkling, and she looked exteremly happy. She also looked, Albus thought, different somehow. He puzzled over this for a moment before realizing that there was an innocence about her in this picture that she had since lost. Now that he had acknowledged it, it seemed painfully obvious.

The girl in the picture seemed bright and happy, young and carefree. The last memory Albus had of the woman that girl had become was of her snapping at him for no reason that he was aware of, her mouth thinned in anger at the world, her dark eyes no longer sparkling but haunted by tradgedy. He gave a small, bitter chuckle. Certainly no one could call Minerva innocent now. He wondered a little at the curcumstances between Minerva and Moody. _"She ended everything we had just when I thought we were closest." _Albus uneasily pondered his feelings for this woman for a moment. He came to the conclusion that, while he still was not entirely sure whether it was the love of romantic passion or the love of a strong friendship, he loved her.

He looked down at the photograph again. It was no use mourning the loss of Minerva's innocence when he might very well have cause to mourn the loss of her life.


	4. Default Chapter Title

A/N – I know I've been getting these up pretty quickly, but today I'm leaving to go to my grandparents house for Thanksgiving, and I won't have access to a computer until I get back. No major cliffhangers this time, though, and I'll post Part Five when I get back on Saturday night or Sunday morning.

***

"The woman is useless, Master." 

Antonin Dolohov watched the Dark Lord nervously. Voldemort's mouth twisted in anger. He had heard all about the methods his Death Eaters had used with the McGonagall woman and how none of them had worked. He had heard all about how she had fought the Imperius Curse and withstood the Cruciatus Curse and would not be turned to his side. He believed it of her. There were only handful of people living he could believe that of, and she was one of them. He had history with this woman, and he was beginning to think the easiest thing to do would be to kill her and have done with it.

"Snape!" Voldemort snapped. Severus Snape stepped forward from among his cronies. "I have a job for you. It will be your rite of passage, if you will, your coming of age as a Death Eater. When you have completed it I shall consider admitting you to my Inner Circle." He paused. Barely a breath stirred the room. Snape watched Voldemort with his black, expressionless eyes.

"You will kill Minerva McGonagall." 

Snape's thoughts began to move very fast. He couldn't understand why Voldemort would want to kill Minerva McGonagall. She could be very useful. Snape knew all they had done to her; he had seen her iron resistance, and he knew that she could never be trusted as a Death Eater. He knew, too, that they had no chance of getting information out of her. But surely Voldemort come up with a use for her other than death? No doubt she could be used as a hostage, or to draw Albus Dumbledore into a trap.

"My Lord," Snape said smoothly, "surely we could find a better use for her."

"You will do as you're told, Snape," Voldemort hissed.

This is senseless violence, thought Snape; killing for the sake of killing. This is not an intelligent decision from an intelligent leader. This is a power-blinded man throwing a temper tantrum.

"But, Lord, surely she could be of use to trap Albus Dumbledore or some such. I don't think it advisable to kill her. It might anger Dumbledore in a way that would be very inconvenient for us."

Voldemort's mouth twisted in an unpleasant way reminiscent of Snape himself. "Obedience is a virtue you have not learned yet, Snape," he said softly. "But you will." He raised his wand. _"Crucio!" _

Snape collapsed in agony beyond anything he had ever imagined. He had never screamed before in his life that he could remember, but he was screaming now, and Voldemort was laughing. The other Death Eaters were laughing too, but it was much more forced. Snape, however, didn't notice anything other than the desperate need to stop the pain.

"I will," he cried.

The pain ceased. Snape drew in a shuddering breath, gathered himself up, and stood. 

Voldemort looked satisfied. "You are very teachable, Snape," he said, still laughing. Snape's muscles were rigid with the after-affects of the Cruciatus Curse. "If I may be excused," he hissed, and fled the room.

He ran down the hall, Voldemort's laughter following him, pushed open a door and bolted through it, slamming it behind him. He fell on his knees in a corner and was violently sick. Hot tears had started to his eyes, and he bit them back, cursing his weakness.

After a moment he heard a small sound from behind him. He whirled around and beheld Minerva McGonagall, in filthy, torn and stained robes, her face streaked with dirt and tears. She was no longer chained to the wall, but she held herself in such a way that it was obvious she was in pain, and there was a gash on her face that had laid her cheek open to the bone.

Snape instantly felt more ashamed then ever. They had put this woman through a hundred times what he had felt, and still she had not given in, where he had. He was a coward, plain and simple.

"What have they done to you?" Minerva asked him. Her voice was harsh and wary.

"I don't see that it's your business," Snape said shortly. "I'm no longer your responsibility." He shook himself and left the room for his own apartment.

"Haven't they made any progress at all?" Poppy Pomfrey asked her husband. "Don't they even have any theories?"

"Poppy, if Albus has any theories, he's keeping them to himself, and he's not acting on them very quickly. I think for once he's a clueless as we are."

Poppy looked at Peter in despair. "Peter, if they don't find her – can you imagine what they're putting her through?"

"I can imagine," Peter said grimly.

"They're probably torturing her for information, and if she doesn't give it, they'll kill her, but if she does – what if they try to turn her to their side?"

"She won't go," Peter comforted. "She won't give away any information."

"But Peter, do you know what they do to people?"

"They'll use the Cruciatus Curse, most likely. But Minerva's intelligent enough to make something up if she can't stand the torture anymore. Though she's also smart enough to know that they'll kill her when they find out she gave them false information. I don't think she'll make anything up."

"But how will she be able to stand the torture? Oh, Peter, I shall go crazy here worrying about her. We've got to do something!"

"There's nothing we can do without information, Poppy. Come on, come to bed. Put Minerva out of your mind until tomorrow. Worrying about her isn't going to help anything."

"But I can't help it." Poppy bit her lip. Peter put his arms around her comfortingly.

"I know."

Snape did not sleep that night. He was ashamed of his inability to tolerate the Cruciatus Curse, especially after seeing Minerva McGonagall's resistance to it. But more than that, he loathed the idea of killing. He was not sure if he could bring himself to take another's life. Well, certainly he could kill if it was the last option, and an intelligent decision, but this was senseless. 

His mind was working furiously, trying to find a plan for Minerva other than death. It hit him around four o'clock in the morning, and by the time he would normally have been waking up, it was fully fleshed out.

He approached the Dark Lord after breakfast. This in itself was something not many Death Eaters would do. Snape might have a low tolerance for pain, but he was no coward, whatever he thought of himself.

"My Lord," he said smoothly, bowing, "I have been thinking about your orders to kill Minerva McGonagall. I – "

"Yours is not to question why – yours is to do or die," Voldemort growled.

"But Lord, I believe that she would be more useful if we sent her back to Hogwarts, under the Imperius Curse, to poison Albus Dumbledore."

There was silence for a moment as Voldemort absorbed this, then he said, "I thought she fought the Imperius Curse."

"She did," Snape answered him. "But in the beginning. I believe she is too weak to fight it now."

Voldemort nodded. "Perhaps. Yes, there may be something in what you say, Snape. I want the Imperius Curse put on her, to test her. Then return to me and tell me of the results. If it works then we will discuss this further."

It transpired that Minerva was indeed too weak to fight the Imperius Curse. Voldemort was informed of this, and he agreed to Snape's plan. He ordered Snape to concoct a deadly potion, and Minerva was set free under the Imperius Curse and sent back to Hogwarts with the poison and a story.

***

_"Minerva!"_

Albus ran down the front steps and enveloped her in his arms, cradling her face against his shoulder, almost crying with relief.

"Oh, Minerva," he said brokenly. "How – "

Just then there was a shriek from behind them, and Poppy came flying down the steps and flung her arms around both Albus and Minerva at once.

"Minerva, you're back – oh, I was so worried – are you all right – " Peter came up behind her and pulled her away from Albus and Minerva, and the former released the latter, who was shaking.

"Albus – Poppy – Peter," she said. "It's so good to see you. I thought – I thought I'd never see you again."

Poppy began to usher Minerva up to the hospital wing. "How on earth did you get away from them?"

"I don't remember," Minerva said, limping slowly up the steps. "I don't remember a thing – I can't even remember much of what happened to me there."

"Tell me what you can remember," Albus said urgently. "Where are they? Do you know?"

"Albus, she needs to rest and heal," Poppy said severely.

"I'm sorry, Poppy, but this is more important. You can heal her while she talks. What do you remember, Minerva?"

Minerva sat down on a bed in the hospital wing and Poppy began bustling around and patching her up. Albus was glad that the first thing she did was clean and heal the gruesome gash on Minerva's cheek, because it had been making him feel slightly ill to look at it.

"I can't remember them taking me," Minerva said slowly and hoarsely, "I can't remember anything clearly. I can only remember waking up chained to the wall in a room, and I remember being questioned, but I didn't tell them anything, and that's about all." She yawned widely, exhaustion engraved on every feature. Albus relented.

"Well, perhaps it will come back. Have you finished, Poppy? She needs a shower and a change of clothes, I think, and perhaps some food before bed."

"Yes, I've finished. I'll take her up to her room."

Minerva could not eat, but she did wash and change before falling into a deep sleep with Poppy sitting on the bed beside her, for comfort.

"There's something different about her; I don't like it."

"Of course there's something different about her, Albus, do you expect her to come back from Voldemort's stronghold and be perfectly normal and okay? She's been through hell and it'll take her a while to get over it."

Albus sighed. "I suppose you're right Peter. But it still hurts to see her like this."

"I know it does. It hurts me too." This time it was Poppy who responded. All three of them were sitting by Minerva's beside as she slept. Albus sighed again.

"Go and get some sleep, you two. I'll stay here for a bit."

Peter nodded understandingly. "Come, Poppy." Poppy looked uncertainly at her friend, then followed Peter from the room, leaving Albus alone with the battered, tortured woman on the bed, who lay as if totally unconscious. He pulled the crumpled photograph out of his pocket and looked down at it. The photographic Minerva smiled and waved at him, and he bit the inside of his lip. He looked at the woman on the bed and then back at the girl in the photo. The girl looked so innocent, and this woman before him . . . As Peter had said, she had been through hell, and looked it. She looked as if nothing could surprise her anymore. It was a heart-wrenching transformation. 

"God, Minerva, I was so frightened," Albus whispered, though she did not hear it. "I'm not sure if I've ever been so frightened, or so worried. I thought I'd never see you again alive." He took her hand from where it lay limply on the bed and held it in both of his own. "I hope you remember what happened, but then again I hope you don't. But remember it or not, I will do my best to help you through this, and I promise I will protect you better in the future."


	5. Default Chapter Title

A/N – Hi all, I'm back! It feels good to be sitting in front of my computer again! Jeez, you can tell you're hooked when you can't even leave for a few days. I've missed Minerva and Albus!

***

__

Severus Snape packed his belongings into a slightly battered valise. It did not look like it would hold much, but then, you should never judge a book by its cover. He put all his clothes and personal belongings into it, shut it, and placed it by the door.

He looked around his apartment, then at the door, swallowed hard, and sat down on the bed. He would need all the courage he could muster in the next few days. Snape was leaving Voldemort.

Lord Voldemort had declared that once Dumbledore was dead, they would take over Hogwarts. He was now rallying his supporters and preparing them for the invasion which, even with Dumbledore out of the way, would be a hard fight. Death Eaters were flocking to Voldemort's headquarters from all corners of England, and there were even a few from other countries. Voldemort spoke to each of them individually, to let them know what was expected, and instil into each of them the fear of his wrath. 

Voldemort had already spoken to Snape. He had congratulated him and admitted him to his Inner Circle. The first meeting of the Inner Circle was enough to convince Snape that he was right to think about deserting Voldemort.

So here he was, preparing to leave Voldemort's Finland stronghold for the last time. It had to be done carefully, or he would lose his life. He planned to go to Hogwarts, arriving before Dumbledore drank the potion he had sent back with Minerva McGonagall, and rejoin the Light Side.

***

Poppy was at her side again when Minerva woke the next day around dinnertime. Minerva showered again and dressed, then asked Poppy to send the house-elves with food, as she was finally ravenously hungry, and then go and tell Albus to come up and eat with her. This Poppy did, leaving Minerva alone for the first time since her return.

Minerva walked over to the mirror after Poppy had gone. A pale, thin, red-eyed ghost of her former self looked back at her. Torture could be clearly seen in her wide, dark eyes. For several long minutes she stared at her reflection, until eight house-elves arrived with dinner. 

Once they had left, Minerva went over to the small table as if in a dream and sat down, her eyes wide and unfocused, one hand twitching occasionally as if trying to resist some strong temptation. A voice was speaking in her head; the voice of the Imperius Curse.

_Put the poison in Dumbledore's glass._

Minerva put her hand into her pocket, grasped the small vial that lay there, and pulled it out. She held it out over the table, breathing hard, struggling with herself, fighting for control.

_Pour the poison into Dumbledore's glass._

Minerva moved her hand over the wineglass opposite her own, and stopped, trembling.

_Put the poison in Dumbledore's glass._

Minerva trembled harder, and clenched her hand around the vial of poison.

_Put it in now!_

The vial began to tip, but Minerva snatched it back. There was a knock at the door.

_NOW!_

Minerva poured the contents of the vial into her own glass.

***

Snape swore as the shadowed shapes approached him, and he recognised them. It was the Lestranges, a married pair of Death Eaters who would do anything to further themselves in Lord Voldemort's favour. And they had recognised him.

They called softly to him as they drew near, and he stopped, seeing no other option.

"You're going the wrong way, Snape," Mr. Lestrange said softly. "Voldemort's headquarters are in the other direction."

Snape was thinking furiously. His heart was pounding; adrenaline rushed through him. He could see no other choice . . . The Lestranges had never liked him much . . .They had never trusted him . . . 

_"Stupefy!" _he cried. A jet of red light shot out of his wand and paralysed Mr. Lestrange. Mrs. Lestrange let out a cry of fury and pulled out her own wand.

"Traitor!" she cried. "I have never trusted you. _I _knew you weren't on our side! And I was right!" She flew at him, wand out, and Snape threw himself wholly into defending his life. 

***

Albus opened the door in response to Minerva's muffled "Come in!" and entered her apartment. He looked at her intently for a moment. The flesh seemed to have melted off her when she was being held captive by Voldemort, and the skin of her face was rather unhealthily white, stretched over her bones. It pained him to see her like this. The tortured look in her eyes was worse; Albus wondered how long it would be until she lost that look.

Minerva's behaviour seemed to fluctuate during the rather silent dinner. One minute she would be very quiet and seem to be struggling internally, and the next she attempted to cover it with a vacuous smile. She ate little and did not drink. Conversation was desultory. Albus watched her with growing concern, finally getting up and going around to her side when he had finished eating. She looked up at him and he felt a throb of heartache from the fear in her eyes.

"Minerva," he said gently, "If you would like to talk, I am more than willing to listen. If I can do anything for you, at any time, you have only to say the word." 

Minerva looked into his eyes, trying to tell him without words of her inner struggle. She opened her mouth, trying to tell him something – anything – but no words came out. The curse took over, and she shut it. Her throat worked twice, three times; she fought the curse with all her might, but it was too strong . . . Albus watched her with concern. She tried again to speak, but could not. Albus picked up her wineglass and handed it to her. She tried not to take it; she made one last desperate attempt to tell Albus what was wrong, but the Imperius curse was too strong for her. She took the goblet and drank deeply from it, then set it back on the table. Almost instantly she felt the Imperius Curse's effect on her recede. She could think for herself again. She took Albus' hands.

"Albus," she began, but before she could finish, all her muscles seized up, and she went rigid, unable to move or speak, or even to blink. Albus caught her and looked into her face, his own features anxious. He lowered her to the floor and pulled out his wand.

It was a strange sensation. Minerva was perfectly aware, but she could not move a muscle. She watched Albus feeling frantically for a pulse in her wrist, but she could not feel his touch. Sound, though, was oddly magnified. She heard the footsteps outside in the hallway before Albus did, but could not turn her head, and so she could not see the person who came bursting through the door until he was standing over her. It was Severus Snape.

Snape said nothing; he merely knelt, tapped his wand on Minerva's forehead, and muttered a few odd words. She felt herself return to normal, and in a moment Albus helped her to a sitting position. She leant back against him, oddly out of breath, and both of them looked at Snape. He looked back at them. For a moment, no one spoke.

"What are you doing here?" Albus asked him finally. Snape took a deep breath.

"I have come to rejoin your side, if you'll have me," he said.

"I will have anyone who is willing to be loyal," Albus told him, getting up and helping Minerva to her feet also. "If you will be loyal to us and can prove you have renounced the Dark side, you will be welcomed back with open arms."

Minerva found her voice. "You exaggerate, Albus," she said hoarsely. "Our people will be hesitant to welcome back someone who could very possibly be spying for Voldemort." She was watching Snape's face very carefully, so she did not see the odd flicker in Albus' blue eyes before he said, "I would like to speak with you at length, Severus, but this is not the place for it. Would you be so kind as to come with me to my office?"

Snape hesitated.

"Is something wrong?" Albus inquired.

"No," Snape said quickly, "I was merely going to say that I met two Death Eaters on my way in here – the Lestranges. I managed to Stun them. I left them outside, hidden of course."

Albus did not respond, other then to reach for the door and stride out of the room into the dark corridor outside. Snape and Minerva followed him.

"I left them here, Dumbledore," Snape said quietly a moment later, pointing to a shadowy clump of bushes. A brief search discovered that the Lestranges were still there. Albus levitated them with his wand and the three of them took them into the castle and locked them securely in an empty classroom pending the time when they could be handed over to the Ministry.

"Now," said Albus, "Snape, I would like to speak with you. Minerva, I want you to see Poppy and then rest."

Minerva began to protest, but Albus shot her a look, and she gave in. They went their separate ways.

***

"Hate," Albus mused, "Is so detrimental. You – " he jabbed a long finger at Snape – "are filled with hate."

Snape said nothing. 

"This is what made it so easy for Voldemort to convert you to his side," Albus continued. "All he had to do was twist your hate to fit his own ends." He sighed. "So simple really. But you are a good man, Severus. All you need to do is get rid of the hate inside you."

Still Snape said nothing.

"I know it is easy to hate," Albus said gently. "It is easy and, in its own way, satisfying. But as I said before, it is extremely detrimental to you and every one around you."

Snape cleared his throat. "I've always hated," he said hoarsely. Albus looked at him with blue eyes that seemed concerned and – there was no other word for it – loving. Snape swallowed hard, but the words burst from him as if a dam had burst.

"You say hate is detrimental," he said, "But it is the only emotion I know. I have always hated everything and everyone. It's like a disease with me. I know you say I can get rid of it, but I don't think I can."

"Severus – " Albus began, but Snape continued in a rush.

"Detrimental or not, I hate Voldemort and all his supporters! I hate them more than anything else! They have destroyed everything I have ever loved and killed everyone who has ever loved me! They have ruined my life – I will never be happy!" Here Snape stopped and took a shuddering breath. He buried his face in his hands, struggling for control of himself, for whatever he told Albus, hate was not the only emotion he could feel.

Albus came around to his side and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"So you can feel emotions other than hate," he said softly. "I thought you could. It's all right, you know. Remorse, sorrow, and even tears are a natural part of life." He knelt down and put an arm around Snape. The gesture reminded Snape of the father he had never known, and for once in his life he gave in to his emotions, and he cried for the first time since he was a little boy.

***

Albus went up to Minerva's room after Snape had gone. He sat down on a chair facing her bed, where she was seated, wrapped in a dressing gown. Her hair was wet, and it hung down to touch the bedspread. Several strands fell over the front of her shoulders and down into her lap. She was watching him with interest, waiting for him to tell her what Snape had told him.

"He said he joined the Death Eaters when he was seventeen – just after he left Hogwarts," Albus began. "He made potions for Voldemort, and eventually assisted several other Death Eaters in inventing curses and untraceable poisons. He was involved mostly with the intellectual side of Voldemort's reign. Things began to change for him in the last few months, beginning when he was dragged along on a Muggle-killing expedition, done for fun on a day off." Albus paused for a moment. "Then they brought you in," he said carefully. "Severus said the Death Eaters had been planning your abduction for weeks. They put some sort of sleeping gas in your bath salts." Minerva nodded; things were becoming clearer to her now. "When they couldn't get any information from you," Albus went on, watching her closely, "Voldemort ordered Severus to kill you, as a sort of initiation rite to his Inner Circle."

"But he didn't," Minerva said wonderingly. 

Albus smiled. "No. He told me he didn't want to kill you; that there were 'better uses' for you. He suggested to the Dark Lord that you should be sent back to Hogwarts under the Imperius Curse, to poison me." Minerva looked like she wanted to say something, but she didn't, so he went on. "Voldemort called upon Severus to make the poison. By this time he was starting to think of ways to escape Voldemort and return to our side. He made a sort of Stunning potion – his own invention – instead of a deadly poison. He intended to get here before I drank it, but was held up, as you heard earlier." Albus probed at Minerva with his eyes. "Incidentally," he said, "How did you come to drink that potion instead of me?"

Minerva hesitated, her eyes on her hands, which were twisting in her lap. "I was - I am – too weak to fight the Imperius Curse, but I still kept my own mind, in a way," she said. "I knew what I was doing, but I couldn't stop myself. It was the most horrible sensation. I thought that the vial of potion the Death Eaters had given me was poison, and I – I knew I wasn't going to be able to stop myself from putting it in your wineglass, like the curse was telling me to do. Even in that state I knew what would the result would be, and with the part of me that could still think properly, I knew I didn't want to be the cause of your death." Her head came up and she looked Albus straight in the eye. "I put the potion in my own glass."

There was silence. Albus sought to put his feelings into words, but the words would not come to him. 

"I – " he said, "I – thank you is the only thing I can come up with."

Minerva smiled. It made her thin face beautiful again to Albus. He put out a hand and clasped hers tightly. She squeezed back, and then her hand fell back into her lap. There was silence again, and both of their thoughts turned back to Severus Snape.

"You trust him then, Albus?" Minerva said suddenly. "Snape, I mean."

"I do trust him," Albus said. "I see no evidence of subterfuge and I believe his story. It is, I fear, entirely plausible. Voldemort is a very difficult person to resist."

Minerva winced slightly at the mention of the Dark Lord's name. "As I well know," she murmured. Albus looked at her sympathetically. 

"But you did resist him," he said. "I can only admire you for that."

Minerva sucked in an unsteady breath. "You have no idea," she said hoarsely, "of the kind of things they do to people. I don't know how much longer I could have survived it. I kept telling myself that it wouldn't be much longer, that you would find me soon – "

Albus slid out of the chair and onto the bed beside Minerva in one motion.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't want you to think I didn't try to find you – but I had no information to start with – " Minerva wrapped her arms around herself and bit her lip from the inside.

"You have no idea," she said again. Her voice shook. "The things they did were – horrific – enough to give anyone nightmares. I will – I will never forget it – the Cruciatus Curse – pain beyond anything I could have imagined." Albus made a sudden move as if to comfort her, but thought better of it, and stayed still, watching Minerva struggle to find the words. "They – they did things I couldn't – no words could describe – I didn't think I would ever get out of there alive, but I would rather have died than give them any information about you. I was so afraid. I was so sure you would find me, but you never came – and I began to give up hope. I knew they were going to kill me. I wished they would just get it over with."

Albus swallowed hard in a vain attempt to dispel the tightness in his throat. He reached up one long hand and gently cupped her cheek with it.

"Minerva," he said. "I'm so sorry." He wanted to say more, but he could not find the words to express his feelings. "I – It drove me crazy to know that Voldemort had you – and I could never be sure if you were even still alive – please believe me when I say that I tried my best to find you and rescue you."

A single tear slipped out from under Minerva's lashes and splashed down her face. Albus wiped it away with his thumb.

"I love you," he said. Minerva's eyes came up to meet his and fastened there like a drowning sailor clutching at a life raft. Her lips parted, but she did not speak. Albus leaned forward and softly placed his own mouth over hers. 

Instantly a shiver raced through her, from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. Her every cell was filled with an intoxicating power. All her fear and pain disappeared. She gasped for breath, and then she wrapped her arms around Albus' neck and returned his kiss with a passion that the renewal of her powers had brought forth from her tingling flesh.


	6. Default Chapter Title

__

Elsewhere in the castle, another couple was not having such an idyllic evening. Poppy and Peter Pomfrey had been engaged in a vicious argument ever since dinner. They were now lying side by side in their bed, each of them stiff and cold, angry with each other and with themselves. However, somewhere deep inside, each was longing for the other's touch.

***

The next morning there was a new spring in Albus' step. Poppy Pomfrey observed it when she passed him in the hallway after breakfast. Peter Pomfrey noticed it when he met Albus for lunch, and afterwards he sought out his wife for the sole purpose of being with her, something he had not done in some time. Albus himself felt invincibly happy, as though not even Voldemort could pull him down out of the clouds. The love of a good woman, he felt, was a wonderful thing to have at any time, but particularly in these times of darkness. For the first time in longer than he cared to remember, in a respite from that darkness, he thought that life was truly good.

Minerva too, woke up in an intoxicatingly good mood. She ate a quick breakfast and decided to do a most disagreeable task that Albus had asked her to do some time ago, and which had been put off in the light of the much more serious Voldemort problems: performing a pregnancy test on the giant squid. It was a task that not only soaked her and took several hours, but left her with a sore shoulder and a limp that stuck with her for two whole weeks. She took the results to Albus after lunch, and, blushing ridiculously, informed him that their suspicions had been confirmed: there were going to be baby giant squids at Hogwarts.

So two months went by. The giant squid grew rounder by the day. Minerva and Albus came to be so close that they often could not tell where one ended and the other began. Their romance had to be kept secret from the staff and students, which was a strain, but they had always spent a lot of time together, and that helped. The school year began. Severus Snape became Albus' spy and returned to Voldemort at great personal risk. Minerva had grown to know him better, and she admired his courage. The Lestranges were turned over to the Ministry, tried for being Death Eaters, and sent to Azkaban. Their capture was credited to Alastor Moody, the best Auror to ever work against Voldemort. The Pomfreys argued constantly, most often about Peter's job as a Hit Wizard for the Ministry. Lily and James Potter started to discuss going into hiding. Voldemort's agents murdered and tortured and the wizarding world lived in fear.

But through it all Minerva and Albus were finding something in each other that each had thought they would never have again. Albus threw himself into his work against Voldemort with new energy, but always found time to be with Minerva. This method kept him more relaxed and enabled him to bring greater focus and perception to the fight against the Dark Lord. Minerva had taken over much of the running of the school. Between that and her classes she was often exhausted, but being with Albus was more energising to her than sleep.

The giant squid gave birth to her babies in late September, much to the delight of Rubeus Hagrid. Minerva and Albus went down to the lake to see them that night, under the starlight. They found them in a secluded corner: eight of them, all clustered around their mother. The small squids swan over to them cautiously, but backed away hurriedly when Minerva extended a hand to touch one.

"The miracle of birth never ceases to amaze me," she murmured. Albus looked at her, ready to agree, but something in her expression stopped him. She was chewing her bottom lip, and Albus saw, to his surprise, her eyes fill with tears. 

"What is it?" he asked gently.

She could only shake her head. He put his arms around her and drew her near. She resisted at first, then relaxed against him and buried her face in his robes.

"I've always wanted to have a child," she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder. "But I –" Her voice broke, and he felt her give way to heartbroken sobs.

Albus gently stroked her hair, caressing the black locks.

"I – I can't – " she wept. "I can never – never have children – " her words dissolved. He gathered her to him more firmly, and she clung to him, her tears soaking his shoulder.

They stayed like that for a long time, until her sobs gave way to sniffles, and then Albus raised her face to his and kissed her cheeks, tasting her salty tears. He kissed her closed eyes, and she wrapped herself around him, seeking his mouth, trying to escape the dull ache of a deep sorrow that had plagued her for most of her adult life.

Eventually they lay back against the bank and gazed up at the sky.

"Why," Albus began hesitantly. "If you don't mind me asking – Why can't you bear children?"

Minerva sighed deeply, gathering her thoughts. "Of course I don't mind you asking, Albus. The painful part was telling you in the first place – I can talk about it now." She paused to find the words. "I won't go into the medical description of it – I'm not sure I could, to be honest with you. The doctors have fed me a bunch of jargon that I couldn't repeat to save my life, but basically what it all meant was that I don't ovulate."

There was silence as Albus considered this.

"I see," he said softly. "And there is no cure? Have you spoken with Poppy?"

"Of course. She says, and the doctors in London agree with her, that there is no known cure."

"I'm sorry," Albus said quietly.

Minerva nodded, her face turned away from him. There was silence for the space of several minutes.

"I suppose that's the reason I became a teacher," she said eventually. "To help shape young lives, you know. I suppose I thought it would make up for not having a child of my own."

"Does it?" Albus asked softly.

Minerva shook her head. "It just rubs it in, I'm afraid."

Albus hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "If you don't enjoy teaching," he said, "Don't let me hold you here. I want you to be happy."

"It's too late to leave now," Minerva said with a rueful grin. "Teaching is – how can I say this? – teaching is what I do. It's what I've done for most of my adult life, and even though there are times when I want nothing more than to be done with it, I know I would miss it if I quit. Besides, I've grown to really enjoy my colleagues over the years, and I've gotten too used to the luxury of living at Hogwarts to leave it now." She smiled in the starlight. "And, I think, I've grown to love you too much to ever leave."

***

"When we were married you promised me that you were going to be moved to another department!" Poppy and Peter were arguing again, about his occupation as Hit Wizard.

"Poppy, I've told you before, taking any of the available positions at the Ministry would mean cutting my salary in half." Peter sounded weary, as if they had been through this too many times before.

"Money isn't everything!" Poppy shrieked. "I don't care if you lose half your salary! It's not like we're poor, you know, Peter. I'm making good money from Hogwarts."

"Poppy, we're going to want to retire eventually. We need the money I make for a good retirement. Do you want to have to work for the rest of your life?"

"I'd rather work my whole life than have my husband continue to be a paid murderer!"

Peter winced at the blunt term his wife used. "Poppy, do you think I like having to go out there and kill fellow human beings? Do you think I do this because I enjoy it?"

"How do I know?" Poppy shouted. "How am I to know you don't enjoy your job? You certainly haven't done anything to get out of it!"

Peter was fast losing his temper. "What would you have me do?" he shouted, his voice rising to meet Poppy's. "Would you have me quit my job and take some other low-paying, no-benefit job to satisfy your conscience? Tell me, Poppy, what do you want?"

Poppy's face crumpled. She sank down onto the bed. "All I want is you," she said, her voice quiet now, and Peter could hear the tears in it. He went to her side. 

"Please don't cry," he said, putting his arms around her. "I didn't mean to upset you – "

"You have," Poppy sniffled. "You've been upsetting me for most of our married life, Peter. All I've ever wanted was to be married to someone who doesn't make their living by killing other people, even if they are Dark wizards."

"Why don't you divorce me then," Peter said roughly.

Poppy began to cry in earnest. "Because I love you, Peter. I don't want to live without you. But I'm tired of wondering who you've killed today when you come home late. I'm tired of knowing you're out there somewhere murdering someone while I'm working to heal someone else. I can't stand it anymore!"

Peter was choking up too. "I don't know what to do, Poppy," he said helplessly. I need my job. And the Ministry needs me. I can't resign, not while Voldemort is in power." He rested his head on his wife's bosom. "I don't want to kill anymore, Poppy," he whispered. "I'm tired of taking lives, and I'm tired of risking my own life to do it." She put her arms around him.

"Oh, Peter – " 

At that moment there was a loud beeping noise from across the room. Peter raised his head. His wand sat on the bureau. The end of it was glowing red. 

"The Ministry needs me," he said, getting up. He picked up a cloak, his wand, and a hat, then turned to his wife. There were tears streaming silently down her face.

"Don't go – Peter, please," she said brokenly.

"I have to," he said, and put his hat on. He tucked his wand through his belt and straightened his shoulders. "When I come back, I promise I will look for another job."

Poppy flung her arms around him. "Peter, don't," she sobbed. "Don't leave me." She held on to him tightly, as if she would never let him go.

"Be brave, Poppy," he told her. "You're a Gryffindor, remember? I'll be back – possibly not tonight, but tomorrow morning at the latest. Don't wait up for me." He kissed her gently on the cheek, then turned away from her and left without a backward glance; tall and proud, wrapped in courage like another cloak. Poppy put up a hand to touch her cheek where he had kissed her and looked at the door that her husband had just disappeared through. It was quite a while before she moved.


	7. Default Chapter Title

Peter was paired for the evening with a Dark Force Defence League agent called Spencer Calello. He was a pleasant fellow with an almost light manner. It didn't fool Peter; he had worked with Spencer before and knew him to be a formidable wizard.

They Apparated to the spot where their quarry was said to be hiding: an old, dilapidated, apparently uninhabited cottage. According to the Ministry, however, it was in fact inhabited, by two very dangerous Death Eaters who had narrowly escaped capture a few days ago. Peter and Spencer approached the cottage very carefully and quietly, and but somehow the Death Eaters knew they were coming, and prepared themselves.

It was a terrifying fifteen minutes. Later Spencer could never believe that it had been only fifteen minutes, although he knew it had.

The Dark wizards were skilful and desperate. One of them managed to put the Cruciatus Curse on Spencer within the first few minutes, but Peter rescued him, and together they turned themselves to battle in earnest. 

It was like a four-person war. By the time it was over the cottage lay in ruins around them; the two Death Eaters were dead; Spencer was aching all over and bleeding from a gash along his ribs; and Peter – Peter had been hit with a curse from a Dark wizard's wand that had manifested itself in a flash of blue light and left him barely clinging to life, every breath a struggle taking all the courage he had in such abundance. 

Spencer knelt by Peter's side; he knew a dying man when he saw one.

"Well, old chap, you fought bravely," he said. "And beat them. Don't know where I'd be right now if you hadn't been here."

Peter reached up a hand and grasped the sleeve of Spencer's robes. "Poppy," he gasped. "Tell Poppy – tell her – I love her."

And he died, gone so quickly that there was nothing Spencer could do to prevent him. His hand relaxed its hold on Spencer's sleeve and dropped limply to the ground. Spencer stood up and looked down at Peter's lifeless body with an unaccustomed solemness. 

"I'll tell her, Peter," he said, and turned away.

***

A knock on her door roused Minerva partially from a deep sleep. 

"Oh, go away," she moaned. She rolled over and buried her head under her pillow.

A moment later she became dimly aware of someone standing next to her. They put a hand on her shoulder and shook her roughly. 

"Minerva." It was Albus' voice, low and urgent. "Get up, now. I have bad news."

Minerva sat up, awake now. She cleared her throat.

"What is it?" she asked. She got out of bed, wincing when her bare feet touched the floor. She noticed Albus was fully dressed, and began to pull on robes as he spoke.

"I've just had a visit from a member of the Dark Force Defence League," he began.

"Oh, good Lord, what has he done now?" Minerva demanded, but Albus held up his hand.

"Voldemort has not done anything this time – it is his supporters who have."

"His supporters – "

"Peter Pomfrey was called out this evening on a mission to find and kill two escaped Death Eaters. This was accomplished. However, Peter was killed in the struggle. The Defence League agent who I spoke of was with him."

Minerva stopped in the middle of tying her hair back out of her face.

"Albus, I – I can't believe it. He was such a good man. Oh, poor Poppy. Does she know yet? I ought to go to her and see if I can be any comfort to her."

Albus looked saddened. "Poppy does not know yet. I came to ask you if you would come with me to give her the news."

Poppy paced her room restlessly. She was dressed for bed, but the blankets were untouched. As much as she wanted to sleep, she simply couldn't until Peter was back by her side. Hence, the pacing. A knock at the door brought her up short. She called a tremulous, "Come in," and it opened.

Minerva and Albus stood there. The latter looked unusually sober. Minerva moved into the room and to her side in one quick motion. Poppy had frozen with dread. Albus followed Minerva, shutting the door behind him.

"You might want to sit down," Minerva said kindly. She sat down on the bed and pulled Poppy down next to her.

"Poppy," Albus began gently, "There is no easy way to say this, but Peter was killed tonight in the fight against Voldemort."

The end of Albus' sentence was drowned out by Poppy's long, heartbroken wail.

"No!" she cried. "Please – tell me it's not true." Minerva put a comforting arm around her.

"It is true, I'm afraid," said Albus. "But he talked about you before he went. He wanted you to know that he loves you." Poppy broke down and wept for the man she had loved, the man she had spent the last several weeks fighting with.

"I loved him too," she sobbed. "He was such a good man. I hated his job with the Ministry – that's what we've been fighting about these past weeks. He said – he said he was going to find another job after last night – " She buried her face in Minerva's lap like a small child and wept until she had cried herself into an exhausted sleep.

***

Lily and James Potter came to speak with Albus the next afternoon. Voldemort was very eager to see them dead, and Harry too, so they were planning to go into hiding.

"The house in Godric's Hollow is ready," said James. "So I guess we'll perform the Fidelius Charm tonight."

Albus nodded. "Who have you chosen as Secret-Keeper?"

"Sirius," James answered promptly. Harry squealed at the sound of his godfather's name, and Lily hushed him with a smile on her pretty face.

Albus' brows were knitted together in thought. "Someone from our side is passing information to Voldemort," he reminded the Potters. "I would feel better if you would let me be Secret-Keeper."

"Sirius is not spying for Voldemort!" James said indignantly. "And he would rather die than betray us!"

Albus sighed. "I hope you're right, James," he said.

Snape was coming up to Albus' office as the Potters were leaving. He and James eyed each other with dislike, but then James stopped and said, "I don't much like you, Snape, but I have to admit you're doing a brave thing, spying on Voldemort. We're on the same side now, and, well – " He seized Snape's hand and shook it.

Minerva met the Potters in the entrance hall.

"We're going into hiding tonight, Minerva," Lily told her.

"So soon?" Minerva said, then, "I suppose that's wise. I'll miss you, though."

Lily suddenly shifted Harry's weight and flung her arms around Minerva. Taken aback, Minerva patted her awkwardly.

"I'll miss you too," Lily said in a muffled voice. "Thank you for everything you've done for us." She let go of Minerva, who smiled at her affectionately and then embraced James.

"Take care of yourselves," she said. "Hopefully you won't have to stay in hiding very long. Albus is making good progress now that he has Snape on his side; the inside information has helped him along immensely. Good luck with the Fidelius Charm. Give Sirius my regards, and Remus if you see him. I'll see you when things are safe enough for you to come out again."

***

Sirius Black sat in his apartment, thinking hard. He didn't want to believe that his friend Remus could be Voldemort's spy, but didn't know who else it could be. Pettigrew didn't have the guts or the brains, and it definitely wasn't Lily or James or – Sirius smashed his fist down on the table in front of him in frustration.

"Why does it have to be like this?" he shouted. "Why?"

***

Remus Lupin stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked thin and tired, and his grey eyes were troubled. It was torture to wonder who was passing information to Voldemort, for he trusted everyone who was involved in the fight against the Dark Lord, and didn't want to believe treachery of any of them. The problems was, though, that he suspected Sirius.

"Sirius would never join Voldemort," he muttered. "Never." But it was also possible that Sirius was only giving information to Voldemort because they had given him a truth potion, or put him under the Imperius Curse, or – there were just too many possibilities. 


	8. Default Chapter Title

A/N – Sorry this took so long, but my life has been incredibly busy, and not entirely in a good way. I swear the next part will be up very soon, and the parts after that should follow fairly quickly, now that I've gotten over my writer's block. Well anyway, enjoy this part; I'm going to go work on the next part now!

***

__

"M-Master, I – " Pettigrew stuttered.

"What is it, Wormtail," Voldemort snapped. "I'm busy."

Pettigrew backed up a step in fear. "It's the Potters, my Lord."

Voldemort's pale, thin face assumed a look of interest. "The Potters?" he repeated.

"Yes, my Lord. The Fidelius Charm has been performed, and I am ready to spill their secret for you."

***

The Halloween feast was over, and Minerva and Albus were in his study. His Pensieve was on the desk, and Minerva sat before it, staring into it with a look of great concentration. 

"Do you see anything?" came Albus' soft query into her thoughts.

Minerva shook her head. "No," she admitted. "I'm too confused to see anything at the moment." She leaned back in her chair and put a hand to her forehead. Her fingers were cool and they felt good. There was silence for a time, until Albus' gentle voice once again reached her ears.

"You ought to go to bed, Minerva. You look exhausted."

Her hand fell away from her face as she sat up and swivelled to look at the older wizard. She said nothing, but her eyes held an almost pleading look.

"What is it?" he asked softly. His light blue eyes seemed to look straight into her soul.

"I – " she stopped, feeling foolish.

"Go on," Albus encouraged her.

"I don't want to sleep alone," she admitted.

His eyebrows went up slightly, but his expression did not change. "Is something bothering you, Minerva?"

"Is something bothering me?" she repeated. "What a stupid question. Voldemort holds a reign of terror over the entire wizarding world, and you ask me if something is bothering me. Well, yes, Albus, something is bothering me. Do you know what it is? People are dying. People are dying and being tortured and families are being ripped apart and there is no end to the discord." Her voice weakened over the next sentence, rising in pain. "I have lost almost all of my friends, Albus – the people that I considered my family of choice. You and Poppy are the only ones left of my close friends, and even Poppy was never a close friend until recently. Before the Dark years began we were no more than acquaintances. We became friends because all the others were dying and we needed someone to befriend. That doesn't mean that I don't love Poppy, but the bond between us isn't the same."

Albus wanted to reach out and comfort her, but he did not; he let her continue. She stumbled on to try to tell him how she felt, and he watched her with non-judgemental love in his eyes.

"You're different, though, Albus. You are – you are more to me than I could ever put into words. I have loved men before in my life, and I have been loved in return, but I have never loved anyone in quite the same way I love you, and no one has ever returned my love quite like you do."

"And what makes our relationship different?" His voice was soft and calm, showing no trace of the tenseness he felt inside or the increased speed of his heart.

"I don't know," Minerva said. "I don't quite know how to say it. You accept me as no one ever has. You have never once, in all the years I've known you, tried to change me in any way. You have only encouraged me to find my path, and for that I thank you."

"There is no thanks needed," Albus murmured. Their eyes meet, dark brown meeting light blue, swirling together and joining in a line of communication that went deeper than words could ever go. For an Eternity they stared into each other's eyes, until finally Albus said, without taking his eyes from Minerva's, "But to return to the original question, is there something in particular that you are frightened of? Why don't you wish to sleep alone?"

"To be honest with you," Minerva said, as if she could have been anything else with him viewing her heart through her eyes, "I have been having horrible nightmares lately. They are never quite the same, but usually you are tortured and killed in front of my eyes, and I am powerless to stop it. I don't wish to wake from seeing that again without you beside me."

"I will not, of course, deny you," Albus said, "But was there anything else?"

"I haven't been sleeping well lately," Minerva admitted. "I can't seem to stop thinking – it's become like a curse that keeps me from sleeping."

"A simple Sleeping Potion would cure that."

"Yes, but I don't feel safe going into a drugged sleep when I'm alone."

Albus stood up and held his hand out to her. "Then come, Minerva. It grows late."

***

Harry Potter gurgled happily deep in his small throat as he sucked hungrily at his mother's nipple. James, sitting next to them with his arm around Lily, reached out and ruffled his son's fuzzy black covering of hair. Lily sighed contentedly. Her thoughts were on her small son and his future. Did he even have a future?

"James," she said suddenly, "What would you do to give Harry a future?"

James sat up straighter, startled by the question. "Why, everything I could," he replied.

Lily snaked a look sideways at him. "Including give your life?" she probed.

"Do you doubt it?"

Their eyes locked, vibrant green facing a deep, grayish blue. After a moment, Lily shook her head.

"No."

Silence fell between them again, a loving, trusting silence, full of faith. Harry had stopped suckling and was nodding off in Lily's arms. She gathered him up and stood.

"Shall we put him to bed, James?"

James stood too, and together the little family set off down the hallway towards the nursery.

***

Sirius Black couldn't sleep; he was too restless. He tossed and turned until he couldn't stand it anymore, then he got up and paced around his small apartment with his hands clasped behind his back. His brain was working furiously, and his heart began to pound as he considered the implications of everything he knew.

"Perhaps the owl was intercepted," he muttered to himself. "Or maybe he never sent one at all." Yes, that would be it; Wormtail was so forgetful sometimes. He had probably just forgotten to owl Sirius and let him know that everything had gone well and he was safely in hiding.

The clock read 11:29, but Sirius couldn't stand the not knowing. He seized a cloak, threw it over his shoulders, and Disapparated into the night.

***

Peter Pettigrew stood, trembling, in a room in Voldemort's British headquarters. 

_Please God, _he prayed without much hope that the Lord could hear him, _Forgive me. I didn't have a choice – he would have killed me._

Just then Voldemort himself swept into the room. He wore a black, billowing cloak, and his wand rested lightly in one long, white hand.

"Are you ready, Wormtail?" he snarled impatiently.

"Y-Yes, my lord," Wormtail stuttered.

'Then come," Voldemort hissed, "To Godric's Hollow."


	9. Default Chapter Title

A/N - I know I said this would be up sooner, but I was sick yesterday. So I have an excuse. Have a little understanding, K? Now, on with the story!

* * *

Minerva undressed in Albus' bathroom and pulled a nightdress over her head. She was brushing her hair when a knock came at the door, closely followed by Albus' voice.

"Minerva? May I enter?"

"Yes, come in Albus," she called. The door opened and she watched him approach in the mirror. He came up behind her and took the brush out of her hand, then continued her task of combing out the tangles in her hair. A few moments later her long, straight black hair hung in an untangled wave down to the middle of her back. Albus studied her from behind and also in the mirror in front of her. She had gained back most of the weight she had lost when she had been held by the Dark Lord, and her eyes, though still haunted, had lost some of the torture they had once held. Her skin looked healthy and her body was that of a woman in the prime of life. Albus reached around and gently brushed a lock of hair off her forehead then leaned over and kissed the top of her head.

"It's nearly midnight," he said, glancing at his watch.

"Mmm," said Minerva, but she stood up and followed him into the bedroom. She pulled back the blankets and climbed in. Albus put out the lights with a wave of his wand and joined her. She snuggled up against him, and he wrapped his arms around her, wrapping her in safe, warm love. She felt so secure in his arms, and to her vague surprise, she also felt sleep claiming her. The last thing she heard before falling asleep was Albus' contented sigh, and then there was nothing.

***

A shaft of silver moonlight slanted in through the window of a nursery in Godric's Hollow, falling on the baby boy lying asleep in his crib. His parents stood beside him watching him sleep.

"He's so precious," Lily whispered. She rested her head on James' shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her.

"He is," he agreed. "Come, let us go downstairs."

***

The blissful nothing that filled Minerva's sleeping world soon became one of the all too familiar nightmares. She turned over in her sleep in a feeble attempt to get away from the image of Voldemort's Finland stronghold, but it stayed with her.

__

It was a room with stone walls, the same room Minerva had been imprisoned in before. She was chained to the wall again, and in front of her three Death Eaters surrounded Albus Dumbledore. His glasses, the familiar half-moon spectacles, were gone, and his light blue eyes no longer sparkled. His hands were tied behind his back, and blood from a head wound trickled down into his silver hair. The Death Eaters forced him to his knees, and he went, his long legs collapsing under him as he fell to the hard stone floor. He let out a quickly stifled cry, pain radiating upwards from where his knees had struck the floor.

"Be quiet, you old fool," one of the Death Eaters snapped. The man kicked Albus hard in the ribs, and he went sprawling face down on the cold floor. When the Death Eaters pulled him back up, the lower half of his face was covered in blood from a heavy nosebleed. Minerva struggled in her chains, but they did not give way, and she couldn't seem to use her voice properly. All she could get out were a few indistinct though furious noises.

"Now," said a blonde Death Eater who seemed to be the leader, "We have a deal to offer you, old man. If you tell us what you know, we will release her unharmed." He jerked his head towards Minerva, who seemed to have found her voice at last.

"No," she cried. The one word was all she could muster, but it was enough. Albus shook his head. There was an infinite sadness in his eyes. Two of the Death Eaters positioned themselves beside Minerva.

"Are you sure?" asked the leader.

Both Minerva and Albus nodded at the same time. The two Death Eaters looked to the leader.

"Shall we kill her?" they asked. The blonde wizard shook his head.

"No, I think not. We'll kill him first." The two Death Eaters left Minerva's side without question and went back to surrounding Albus.

"How shall we do it?" asked one of them with a toothy grin.

The leader paused to consider for a moment.

"We'll carve the Dark Mark into his forehead first," he said with a grin of his own. His two henchmen forced Albus to his feet and pinned him to the wall. They held him there as their leader approached with a knife. The one dim shaft of sunlight in the room glinted off the blade. Albus did not even struggle as the blonde wizard raised the knife and began to carve the image of the Dark Mark into his forehead. Blood ran down his face from where the knife met his skin and dripped onto the floor. There was so much blood . . . It ran into Albus' snow white beard, turning it a dull maroon, the colour of death . . . The smell of blood hung heavy in the air . . . The Death Eaters had bared her lover's chest and were now carving the Dark Mark there too . . . The sound of the knife cutting into flesh sounded strangely loud in the still room . . . and Minerva began to scream . . . 

She woke abruptly, panting, and reached for Albus. That dream had been so vivid, so real . . . She tangled her hands in Albus' beard, pulling him close to her, and her lips found his unblemished forehead. She kissed him frantically, reaching under his nightshirt of run her hands up his chest, but they came away without any taint of blood, and Albus, awake now, had seized her wrists.

"Minerva," he demanded. "What is wrong?"

"It was a nightmare," she panted. "The Death Eaters – they had you, and they were going to kill you – but first they carved the Dark Mark into your forehead – "

"Shhh," Albus soothed, not wanting to hear any more. He cradled Minerva's head in his hands and stroked her cheek with a gentle thumb. She calmed under his touch, and after a moment even had the presence of mind to apologise for being so excitable.

"It's just that I'm so exhausted, Albus. I – " He interrupted her with a soft kiss, and pulled the blankets back up over them. Minerva gave herself up to his embrace, and hoped for the gift of unblemished sleep to come to her. 

***

In a boarded-up cottage several miles to the south, a werewolf threw itself at the door. It howled, the sound carrying across the still night and giving the nearby people nightmares. The werewolf could sense that something was wrong. Evil was abroad. He wanted to join it, to satisfy his bloodlust. His human self, battling for control inside of him, wanted to stop it. The werewolf wanted only to bite, to savage, to taste blood. The man wanted to protect.

Lupin twisted his head and bit himself, hard, on his left haunch. His muzzle came away covered in his own blood. Pain exploded through his body, mingling with the ecstasy of the taste of blood, and he gave himself to a howl that echoed around the countryside in the silver moonlight. 

***

Sirius Black shivered as the werewolf's howl reached his ears. _I'm sorry, Moony,_ he thought. _Next month I'll transform with you._ He pointed his flying motorbike down toward the small house where his friend Wormtail was in hiding, forcing his mind firmly on his mission once again. There were no lights on in the small two-story. Perhaps Wormtail was asleep. It was nearly midnight, after all. Sirius landed smoothly, and headed up the front walk. 

The door was unlocked. Strange. Sirius let himself in and flicked on a light.

"Wormtail?" he called. "Peter? Wormtail old buddy, are you here?"

Silence. His heart beating faster, Sirius began to prowl the house, looking for his friend.

Wormtail was not there. There was no sign of a struggle, yet the Secret-Keeper was gone.

"Oh, damn," Sirius gasped. He knew what this had to mean. Lily and James – Harry – 

"I'm coming Prongs," he shouted to the night, firing up the motorbike. But the tears that ran down his face as he flew were not entirely due to the cold wind rushing past his face.

***

A sudden wind had sprung up, rattling the foundations of the house in Godric's Hollow. The old Quidditch broom that had been leaning up against the wall fell with a loud crack. James and Lily Potter looked at each other.

"That's not a normal wind," James said softly. Lily's eyes had widened in fear.

"James, you don't think – " she began, but he placed a finger on her lips, silencing her.

"No, Peter wouldn't betray us," he said. "I'll go check and see what's going on."

He got up and left the room, leaving Lily sitting alone on the sofa. She could feel magic swirling around her in the wind that was battering the house. She had always been able to sense magic more strongly than anyone she had ever met, except perhaps Dumbledore. She could also quite accurately sense the intent of magic, and this was pure evil. She got up and followed James into the kitchen, but before she had crossed the threshold, a flash of blue light lit the air outside. James snatched up his wand from the kitchen table, and turned to her, panicking.

"Lily, take Harry and go!" he shouted. "It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"

Lily stumbled automatically from the room, hurrying for the stairs. Then, from behind her, she heard the door burst open – a cackle of high-pitched laughter – James' voice, and Voldemort's – she had reached the stairs – she was stumbling numbly upwards towards Harry – 

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

A flash of green light lit the whole house. Lily tripped and went down on the stairs. Sobbing now, she clawed up the remaining steps on her hands and knees.

Voldemort found her in the nursery. She struggled to her feet in front of Harry's crib.

"Stand aside," Voldemort commanded, raising his wand.

"No!" Lily cried. "Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"

"Stand aside," Voldemort repeated. "Stand aside, girl!"

Tears rushed down Lily's face; she was screaming hysterically, knowing the end was near.

"Not Harry! Not Harry! Please – I'll do anything – "

Voldemort laughed.

"Not Harry," Lily said again frantically, "Please, no, take me, kill me instead – "

The Dark Lord laughed again. "Get out of my way, you foolish girl, or I will kill you. Then I'll murder the brat."

"Not Harry! Please . . . have mercy – have mercy!"

_"Avada Kedavra!" _

Two words, and Lily Potter was dead. Now the path was clear to the boy the Dark Lord so wanted to kill.

"Goodbye, Harry Potter," he whispered, aiming his wand into the crib. The baby was crying – why wasn't his mother coming to comfort him? Who was this strange man? Voldemort laughed softly, and suddenly baby Harry stopped crying. He felt warm and safe again, as if he was wrapped in his mother's arms . . . 

_"Avada Kedavra,"_ Voldemort whispered, his red eyes gleaming maniacally. 

But the flash of green light, instead of killing Harry Potter, bounced back and consumed Voldemort, destroying the house in the process.

A high scream rent the air. The Dark Lord's body dissolved, leaving behind only a malevolent bit of energy dulling the clarity of the air where it hung. The strong wind that still blew carried it away, away to Albania . . . 

And in Godric's Hollow, an infant wailed as flames licked the wreckage around him.


	10. Default Chapter Title

__

Minerva tossed and turned restlessly, but sleep would not return to her. Finally Albus sat up next to her and lit the end of his wand.

"Minerva, would you like a sleeping potion?" he asked her with no preamble.

She let out a long breath and replied, "Yes, please Albus."

The promised potion was a strong one, meant for deep, dreamless sleep. Minerva succumbed to it almost reluctantly. She did not like the idea of going into a drugged sleep in these times of danger, but with Albus beside her she had nothing to fear. Mere moments after she had drained the glass that held the thick potion, a much-needed deep sleep claimed her; a sleep so deep that not even the nightmares could follow her into it.

***

A tabby cat strolled around the corner of Privet Drive. It surveyed the respectable suburban street with distaste, then turned around to have a have a look at the map she had left just around the corner.

A moment later a car drove past, with a large man seated behind the wheel. Minerva noticed the man had an equally large moustache. She quickly tapped her paw on the map and it disappeared. The man in the car jerked his head around to look at her again, and she cursed internally, knowing he had seen the map. He blinked and stared at her. She stared back.

The man watched her in his mirror as he drove away, but she did not notice; she was reading the sign that said Privet Drive. She headed up the street, exploring a few flowerbeds on the way, and once she caught a spider and ate it with gusto. 

Finally she reached number four and settled herself on the low garden wall to wait.

It was a long wait, and though Minerva was impatient, it was not entirely boring. Minerva watched the people who lived in the neighbourhood with interest. It kept her pretty much occupied for most of the day.

Some time after five o'clock, a car pulled into the driveway. It was the man Minerva had seen that morning.

"Shoo!" he said loudly.

Minerva did not move. She gave the man a scornful look. He scowled at her for a moment, then went inside.

Minerva jumped off the wall and prowled around the yard for a bit before settling down again to wait some more. She listened to the Muggles' evening news when it came on, then sat unmoving, letting her mind wander and pondering what might be taking Albus so long. She supposed he wanted to wait to do what ever he was going to do until all the Muggles were asleep. 

It was nearly midnight when Albus finally appeared on the corner of Privet Drive. Minerva's tail twitched and her eyes narrowed. Albus began rummaging around in his cloak, looking for something, but he seemed to feel her eyes on him, for he looked up suddenly, chuckled, and muttered, "I should have known."

Minerva watched him closely as he pulled a silver something out of his pocket and clicked it twelve times. A streetlamp flickered into darkness each time he clicked it. He slipped the silver Put-Outer back into his pocket and set off down the street towards number four, where he sat down on the garden wall next to Minerva.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall," he said after a moment.

He turned to smile at her, but she had transformed back into human form upon hearing her name. She felt distinctly ruffled that he had recognised her, but then, he _would._

"How did you know it was me?" she asked.

"My dear Professor, " he replied, "I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," Minerva pointed out.

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feast and parties on my way here."

Minerva sniffed angrily.

"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no – even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head towards the dark living-room window of number four. "I heard it," she went on. "Flocks of owls . . . shooting stars . . . Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent – I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

"You can't blame them," Albus said gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for the last eleven years."

"I know that," said Minerva irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumours. She glanced sharply at Albus here, hoping he would confirm, or preferably, disprove, the rumours. He said nothing, however, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found about us all. I suppose he really _has _gone, Dumbledore?"

They had fallen into the habit of being more formal with each other when they were public, although there was no one there to hear them.

"It certainly seems so," said Albus. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A _what_?'

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."

Trust Albus to talk about sweets at a time like this, thought Minerva in exasperation. "No, thank you," she said coldly. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who _has _gone – "

"My dear Professor," Albus interrupted her. "Surely a sensible person such as yourself can call him by his name? All this You-Know-Who nonsense – for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: _Voldemort._"

First I start saying 'You-Know-Who' because everyone around me flinches when they hear the Dark Lord's name, then Albus chastises me for it, Minerva thought irritably.

"It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who'," Albus went on. "I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."

"I know you haven't," Minerva said exasperatedly. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, _Voldemort, _was afraid of."

"You flatter me," Albus said calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."

"Only because you're too – well – _noble _to use them," said Minerva, feeling a sudden strong pulse of her love for this man flood through her.

"It's lucky it's dark," he said whimsically. "I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."

Minerva shot a sharp glance at him and said, "The owls are nothing next to the _rumours _that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"

Minerva had finally reached the point she was most anxious to discuss with Albus, the real reason she had waited on a cold, hard wall all day instead of speaking to him back at Hogwarts, where she could take refuge in his strong, tender arms if the rumours were true. She fixed him with a piercing stare. He was choosing a lemon drop and deliberately did not answer her.

"What they're _saying_," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumour is that Lily and James Potter are – are – " she struggled to say the word " - that they're – _dead_."

Albus bowed his head. Minerva gasped and tears pricked her eyes.

"Lily and James . . . I can't believe it . . . I didn't want to believe it . . . Oh, Albus . . ."

Albus reached out and patted her on the shoulder. His hand was gentle and comforting.

"I know . . . I know . . . " he said heavily.

Minerva's voice trembled despite herself as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potters' son, Harry. But – he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke – and that's why he's gone."

Albus nodded, looking as downcast as she had ever seen him.

"It's – it's _true_?" she faltered, astonished. "After all he's done . . . all the people he's killed . . . he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding . . . of all the things to stop him . . . but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"

"We can only guess," Albus said. "We may never know."

Minerva pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. Lily and James dead – they had been almost like Minerva's own children at Hogwarts – 

Albus looked at his watch, then said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I would be here, by the way?"

"Yes," Minerva said, jolted back to reality. She wanted Albus to hold her in his arms and make her forget the Potters' fate. But she merely said, "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me _why _you're here, of all places?"

"I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."

Minerva stared at him in shock. "You don't mean – you _can't_ mean the people who live _here_?" she cried, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. 'Dumbledore – you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people less like us. And they've got this son – I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"

"It's the best place for him," Albus said firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" Minerva repeated faintly, sitting back down on the wall and staring at Albus. "You think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous – a legend – I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future – there will be books written about Harry – every child in our world will know his name!"

"Exactly," said Albus, looking very seriously at her over the top of his glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"

Minerva opened her mouth to say, "We could take him," but changed her mind. As much as she might want to adopt the boy, she knew Albus was right. She swallowed hard and said, "Yes – yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?"

"Hagrid's bringing him."

"You think it – _wise _– to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?" Minerva asked doubtfully.

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Albus with a faint hint of reproach in his voice.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," Minerva said grudgingly. "But you can't pretend he isn't careless. He does tend to – what was that?"

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. They looked up and down the street as it grew steadily louder, then up at the sky as it swelled to a roar.

A huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them. Rubeus Hagrid sat astride it, holding a bundle of blanket in his massive arms.

"Hagrid," said Albus, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," Hagrid said, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got him, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir – house almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol."

Minerva and Albus leaned forward over the bundle of blankets to see a baby boy, fast asleep. A curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning, was visible under a tuft of black hair on his forehead.

"Is that where – " Minerva whispered.

"Yes," Albus answered her. "He'll have that scar forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?" 

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground." 

Minerva smiled to herself despite the circumstances; she knew that scar well.

"Well – give him here, Hagrid – " Albus went on. "We'd better get this over with." He took Harry in his arms and turned towards number four.

"Could I – could I say good-bye to him, sir?" Hagrid asked. He bent over Harry and gave the child what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then he suddenly let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" Minerva hissed. "You'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," Hagrid sobbed, burying his face in a large, spotted handkerchief. "But I c-c-can't stand it – Lily and James dead – an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles-"

"Yes, yes it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Minerva whispered impatiently. Then she repented; she was feeling extremely sad herself. She patted Hagrid very gingerly on the arm as Albus stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry down on the doorstep, tucked the letter into the blankets, and turned away, though not before letting the tips of his long fingers rest briefly on the child's face.

The three of them stood and looked at the little bundle for a full minute; Minerva blinked furiously, Albus' usually twinkling eyes seemed dull, and Hagrid's shoulders shook.

"Well," Albus said finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall – Professor Dumbledore, sir."

He mounted the motorcycle and rose into the air with a roar. Minerva and Albus watched him as he sped off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Albus, nodding to her and looking into her eyes searchingly. She blew her nose in reply.

Albus turned and walked back down the street, pausing on the corner to take out the silver Put-Outer. Minerva transformed back into cat form. Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange as Albus clicked the Put-Outer. The tabby cat slunk around the corner as Albus disappeared with a swish of his long, purple cloak.


	11. Default Chapter Title

Minerva Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron, where witches and wizards had congregated to celebrate. They greeted her warmly, and someone bought her a gillywater, but Albus was not there, as she had thought he might be, so she soon left. 

She had planned to go back to Hogwarts, but she was feeling depressed, and had no desire to talk to anyone just then, not even Albus. She transformed into her Animagus form again and wandered into the slums of Whitechapel. She saw, with a sort of disgusted fascination, the prostitutes, the drunks, the homeless people, the starving children. She saw threadbare women leading even more threadbare men into dark, shabby buildings, heard their breathless cries, saw several drunks engage in a brawl. She saw murder done in a shadowed corner for the few pence the man was carrying. She saw several street urchins squabbling amongst themselves, fighting over some morsel of rotten food they had found in a trash can.

Minerva backed into the shadows, transformed into a woman again, and conjured up food and blankets. These she gave to the street urchins, who thanked her in awed tones, and stared after her as if looking upon a manifestation of Divine Providence when she walked away. 

She stayed in human form now; she Apparated to Hogsmeade and went into the Three Broomsticks for a drink. The moment she walked in the door she was hailed by a tall, remarkably clumsy wizard called Ignatius Izmir who had been a year below her as a student at Hogwarts. He was an enthusiastic fellow, and took delight in knowing things before others did, for it was not something that happened often. 

He was not a person Minerva particularly wanted to see at that moment, but nevertheless he descended on her as soon as she walked in the door, bought her a drink, and proceeded to say excitedly, "Have you heard, Minerva?"

"Ignatius, I believe that everyone in the wizarding world has heard of Lord Voldemort's downfall," Minerva said curtly, and everyone around her flinched. Ignatius Izmir recovered himself quickly and charged on.

"That's not what I'm talking about, Minerva," he said, his excitement reaching fever pitch since she evidently did not know. "I'm talking about the mess with Sirius Black – they're saying he's going to go to Azkaban, and I know I hope he does. I – "

Minerva had frozen with her glass halfway to her lips. "What mess with Sirius Black?" she asked slowly, not entirely sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

"Well," began Ignatius Izmir with obvious relish, "He was a spy for You-Know-Who, wasn't he? He showed his true colours as a double agent last night, but then You-Know-Who disappeared after he killed the Potters, and Black had to run for it. But, would you believe it?, that little Peter Pettigrew – he was a friend of the Potters, I've heard – he went after Black. Cornered him in some Muggle alley somewhere, and Black blew up the street with his wand. He killed a dozen Muggles. And Pettigrew, of course. The Ministry had to modify about a hundred Muggles' memories, I expect. They took Black without a fight – he didn't even try to resist them. And you know what he did when they took him away?"

Minerva shook her head, numb with shock. Sirius Black, an agent of Voldemort?

"He _laughed_."

"Laughed?" Minerva said blankly. That was the last thing she had expected to hear.

"Aye," said Ignatius. "Laughed like a hyena, they say. Must be mad."

Minerva could only gape at him. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. _Sirius betrayed the Potters. _The knowledge seemed to pound in her head. Lily and James were dead because their best friend had betrayed them. It had never quite sunk in before that, because of the Fidelius Charm, Sirius must have given them to Voldemort. She felt physically sick.

"I – I must be going," she said, standing up. "Thank you for the drink, Ignatius." She didn't wait for his response, but walked away, only wanting to get back to Hogwarts.

However, as she neared the door, she saw someone she recognised: Remus Lupin, James' friend. And Sirius'.

He had his head in his hands, and there was a half-full tankard in front of him. Minerva made her way over to him and slid into the booth beside him.

"Remus," she said gently. He raised his head and looked at her with red-rimmed eyes.

"Minerva," he said hoarsely. "How could he – James and Lily – and Harry – "

"Harry will be all right, though," said Minerva bracingly. "He's with his aunt and uncle now – they'll care for him until he is old enough to come to Hogwarts."

Remus shook his head hopelessly. "They're Muggles," he said, as if this would convey everything he wanted to say, and perhaps it did. "Why didn't Dumbledore give him to me?"

Minerva gripped Remus' shoulder. "Dumbledore has his reasons," she said. She just wondered what they were.

"I expect he thought a werewolf couldn't take care of a child properly," Remus said bitterly, taking a drink from his tankard. He did not look up again, but kept his head down and his eyes fixed on the scarred wood of the table. After a moment his shoulders began to shake. He was crying.

"Don't cry, Remus," Minerva said tenderly. "It won't bring them back. What's done is done. Lily and James died to save Harry, and Voldemort is gone now. And Pettigrew died a hero's death."

But Remus would not be comforted. Bitter tears forced themselves out from under his reluctant lids. Minerva stayed with him until he had control of himself again, her presence undemanding and sympathetic. When he had dried his eyes, she asked him what he would do now.

"Leave." His voice was deadened, and that was worse than tears, or even bitterness, in Minerva's estimation.

"Where will you go?"

Remus shrugged. "I don't know yet. Some place where werewolves aren't so shunned as here – if such a place exists."

"I'd like to see you before you go," Minerva said sincerely. Remus nodded disconsolately. Minerva stood up, gripped his shoulder again in passing, and left him to his grief. 


	12. Default Chapter Title

She found Albus in his bedroom, sitting on his unmade bed, staring off into space. Minerva hesitated for a moment at the door.

Albus did not look like himself. He looked – defeated somehow. Or perhaps it was only grief. She could see the marks of tears around his blue eyes, which seemed at once dull and bitter. Minerva thought that there had been an overabundance of tears in their lives lately, but she wanted to shed more at the sight of his eyes like that. She touched his shoulder hesitantly, and he started, then stood up and turned to face her.

"Where have you been?" he asked. "I thought you would have been here long ago." There was a slight accusatory note in his voice, which Minerva instinctively rebelled against, but she looked into his eyes again and softened her words, for here before her was Dumbledore the man, not Dumbledore the famous wizard, and furthermore, he was a man stripped down and laid low by grief.

"I have been in Whitechapel," she said, "Watching Muggle children starve to death and men murdered for the change in their pockets. I have been mourning Lily and James in my own way, Albus – burying myself in the suffering of others so I wouldn't have to think of my own pain."

"I, too, have been mourning Lily and James," he said hoarsely, "and I, too, would like to forget my pain and guilt."

"Albus, don't be guilty," she said. "It was through no fault of yours that Lily and James died. It was through the fault of Sirius – "

"I offered to be Secret-Keeper," Albus said heavily. "James told me he wanted to use Sirius, and I didn't press it. If I would have kept after him – "

"He would have used Sirius anyway," said Minerva firmly. "They were like brothers."

Albus laughed bitterly. "Brothers," he repeated. He blinked furiously, and Minerva saw tears coming into his eyes again. He smothered them with anger. "If Voldemort hadn't been defeated last night I would have gone after him – when I heard that James and Lily were dead – "

"I'm sorry," Minerva said softly. "If I had known how you felt, I would have come back long before this. But you seemed so collected and in control of yourself when you left Harry with his aunt and uncle – "

"I had to be in control," Albus said roughly. "I was out in public, wasn't I? I couldn't lose my head in public. But here – Ah, Minerva – " She came into his arms, and he held her close to him, not a famous, all-powerful wizard, but just a man. A man who seemed half-mad with grief and guilt, a man who she loved and who loved her in return, a man with a man's needs and wants.

"We can talk about all this tomorrow," Minerva said soothingly. "There's no need to go through it all now. It can wait." She put up a hand and brushed the silver hair off his forehead. This was a time for comfort, for expressing sorrow and working out anger. Tomorrow there would be time enough to discuss things and decide what was to be done now.

"Albus," Minerva said gently. "What can I do for you?"

"Make me forget," he said hoarsely, tightening his arms around her. "Make me forget about James and Lily – " he kissed her hard on the mouth " – and Sirius – " he kissed her again "- and Voldemort – "

"Shhh," Minerva whispered. She put her hand up to his face again, and this time left it there. "Don't think about it," she said. "It can wait until tomorrow." Albus went down backwards on the bed, pulling her down on top of him. She let him kiss her for a moment, then untangled herself from his robes and sat up. He sat up with her, still holding her as if he were afraid to let go. Minerva gently pushed his arms away and stood up. She crossed the room and stood with her back to him. He stayed where he was.

"But there is no relief, is there?" she said, but still did not turn around. Albus sighed, regaining his self-control. 

"I'm afraid not."

Minerva leaned her forehead against the wall. It felt cool next to her hot skin, and she drew in a deep breath, trying to pull herself together. 

"There's no forgetting, either," she murmured. Albus stood up then. He straightened his robes and approached her from the back. 

"I'm sorry," he said. Minerva turned around, a question on her face.

"Sorry?" she repeated.

"For losing control."

Minerva gave him the best smile she could muster. "Albus, I'm afraid your conscience is overactive."

"Overactive or not, I'm still sorry."

"For what?"

"For taking out my anger on you."

"Albus, for the love of Aurora, don't apologise. Grief does strange things to people. There are no hard feelings."

"I was angry," he insisted, "And I allowed myself to take it out on you."

Minerva gave a small laugh. "Albus, you may have thought you were taking out your anger on me, but, honestly, you did no harm."

"Could you just accept my apology?"

"If it makes you feel better," Minerva said, "I accept your apology."

"Thank you," he said, and then they lapsed into silence. Minerva absently ran her fingers through his long silver hair, and he sighed sadly.

"Well, there's nothing we can do tonight," he said finally. "We may as well get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a busy day."

"It already is tomorrow," Minerva replied, but she got up and went to get ready for bed. She heard Albus leave the room, but thought nothing of it. He was gone for no more than five minutes before he burst back into the room.

"Minerva!" he barked.

"Yes Albus?" She came out of the bathroom in her nightdress, her fingers fumbling at her bun.

"Get your robes back on. We're leaving in five minutes. We need to get to Hogsmeade and Apparate from there into London."

"Why – what's happened?" Minerva had thought the days of panic were over, but old habits die hard.

"It's the Ministry," he said. "They've caught Snape."


	13. Default Chapter Title

A/N - Yipee, it's finally up! I have been sooo busy lately (hey, it's Christmas; give me a break!) and my Internet hasn't been cooperating very well for the last few days. Anyway, I'm assuming you didn't click on this to hear my abject apologies, so read on!

***

"They caught Snape?" Minerva repeated.

"Yes," Albus said tersely. "Get your robes on; I'll explain on the way."

Five minutes later they were walking briskly up the Hogwarts driveway under the pre-dawn sky. The gravel crunched crisply under their feet, and Minerva pulled her cloak tighter against the chill morning air.

"The Aurors are rounding up the remains of the Death Eaters," Albus was explaining. "And Snape was found with a group of them. The Dark Mark remains on his arm, of course. It will always be there. Well, the Ministry found it, so they think he is just trying to worm his way out of Azkaban by saying he was spying for me. He cannot have been caught more then twenty-four hours ago, but the Ministry has been wasting no time. We can only hope that they haven't yet thrown Severus into Azkaban."

"You they might have?" Minerva asked. "They would put him in there before they know he's guilty?"

"In their eyes, Minerva, he is guilty. But yes, they would put him in Azkaban before the trial."

"If there is a trial," Minerva said darkly. "Barty Crouch is likely to just throw him into prison because of the Dark Mark on his arm and not listen to what anyone else says."

"Then I shall have to insist on a trial," said Albus calmly. Though his voice was steady, his eyes blazed, and Minerva knew what he must be thinking; he abhorred the way Barty Crouch fought violence with violence and couldn't understand how their side could condone the use of the Unforgivable Curses on fellow human beings. It was a debate that often engaged him in a heated discussion with Mad-Eye Moody. 

Just then they passed the boundaries of the Hogwarts anti-Apparition wards.

"Are you ready?" Albus asked.

"The Ministry offices in London?" Minerva double-checked.

"Right outside," he confirmed. Minerva nodded and the two of them promptly disappeared. A moment later they reappeared on a street corner in wizarding London.

***

Severus Snape fought to keep from cowering as a dementor shoved stale bread and stagnant water into his cell. He succeeded in only drawing back slightly, but even that was a blow to his pride. He ignored the bread and water and concentrated on remembering the ingredients to the Stunning potion. Mental exercises were all that were keeping him sane, and he hadn't been in Azkaban long. He knew he would go mad if he stayed much longer, but he told himself to just hold on until the trial, and then he would be free.

The prisoner in the cell next to him screamed, and Severus gasped in reflex, cold filling him from the inside out. Mist began to fill his vision, but he could dimly see six dementors leading two new prisoners into a cell two spaces down. He coughed, choking on his own saliva, and swallowed quickly. The dementors began to file by one by one, and he cast around for something to occupy his mind. It fell on times tables.

"Six times four is twenty-four," he gasped. "Six times five is thirty." He collapsed on his hands and knees, panting, "Six times six is thirty-six." The last dementor filed by, and Severus' vision cleared somewhat. Sick with relief, he sat back and took a gulp of the stale water they had left him. Then he returned to mathematics in an attempt to protect his intelligence, for it was the most important thing to him, more important even than his life.

***

"No one should be put into Azkaban without a trial," Albus insisted. "Least of all Severus, who is innocent."

"Albus, I have told you before," Crouch snapped. "We have no place else to put possibly dangerous allies of the Dark Lord. All suspected Death Eaters have been put directly into Azkaban pending their trials as a precaution for public safety."

"But Severus is not a danger to the public, Barty! That is what I am trying to tell you! As much as I disagree with the practice of putting untried suspects into Azkaban, I do see where you are coming from. But Severus is innocent. I will vouch for him, and I ask only that you release him to my care."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Albus. The Ministry requires - "

There was a series of swift sounds as Minerva rose from where she was seated, crossed the room in two sweeping strides, and slammed a fist onto Barty Crouch's desk.

"For God's sake Barty!" she protested angrily. "He's Albus Dumbledore! Surely you can bend an insignificant rule to - "

"The rule is not insignificant, Minerva," Crouch said icily. "And the Ministry makes no exceptions for anyone."

Albus sighed sadly, controlling his anger. "That," he said tiredly, "Is the base of so many problems in our society. Such rigidity leaves little room for compassion."

Crouch bristled angrily. "It is also the only fair and unbiased way of doing things!" he barked.

Minerva leaned down so that her eyes were level with his. "Are you releasing Snape into Dumbledore's care or not?" she asked in a level voice of forced calm.

Crouch pushed his chair back to get away from Minerva's uncomfortable proximity. "I am not," he said shortly. "Snape will be tried for his alliance with the Dark Lord one week from today." He glared at the two professors. "And that," he said, "Is my final answer."

***

One week later, almost two hundred witches and wizards sat on benches all around a bleak, dimly lit, yet highly official room. All of them were silent, watching an empty chair in the middle of the room. There were chains wrapped around the arms of the chair.

Minerva shifted uncomfortably on the hard bench. Next to her Albus was attentively watching a door in the corner of the room. On Albus' other side, Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody was scanning the crowd.

Then the door in the corner opened, and Minerva started slightly, though she was expecting it. Severus Snape entered the room, flanked by two dementors. They led him to the chair with the chains on its arms. He sat, and the chains glowed suddenly gold and began to bind him to the chair. Albus stood up.

"Please," he said, and the chains fell limply back to the arms of the chair. Snape relaxed slightly, but Minerva could see a vein flickering in his temple. She sought his eyes with her own, but he did not look at her. 

A few yards away from them, Bartemius Crouch stood up.

"Severus Snape, " he said. "You have been brought in front of this court today to present evidence to the Ministry of Magic. You say that you have been a spy for our side. There is no record of your intelligence coming into the Ministry offices."

Albus stood up. "Severus was my spy, Barty," he said. "The information he gave me which I thought the Ministry could use I gave to you; the rest I used myself."

Barty Crouch looked peeved. "Dumbledore," he said. "Such disrespect for the Ministry is almost enough to earn you a trial of your own. Please, sit down and let Mr. Snape tell his story. I will ask you to verify details if I or the jury deems it necessary. Until then, there will be silence in the court. Continue, Mr. Snape."

Albus sat down heavily next to Minerva, who instantly leaned over and whispered, "Watch yourself, Albus; Barty's not been reasonable lately, not after they brought his son in. He's not likely to - "

"Professor McGonagall," Crouch barked. "Please! There will be silence in this court!"

Minerva's nostrils flared, but she followed her own advice and kept quiet. All eyes returned to the man in the chair. He looked around at everyone, his Scorpio self-control marred only by the pulsing of the vein in his temple, then fixed his eerie black eyes on Crouch.

"I was a Slytherin at Hogwarts," he began in his soft voice. "When I was in my seventh year all my friends were making their plans to join the Dark Lord when they graduated. I wanted power. They were assured of it. They all came from prominent Dark Arts families and so were sure of a place among the Death Eaters. They told me that if I wanted to join I would have to pass certain tests. But I had a better mind than any of them, and I knew how to use it. Potions were my specialty, and I knew more curses than almost any student at Hogwarts. So I offered myself to Voldemort." A series of gasps went up around the room, and Snape's voice hardened, his eyes gleaming maniacally. "Yes, I said _Voldemort_," he spat. "It is pathetic that you, the common public, are afraid of saying his name. You think you know the cruelty that is the Dark Lord, but you know nothing. Nothing!" He stared around the room, and those sitting closest to him drew back in fear.

"Continue with your story, Snape!" said Crouch curtly. Snape gave him a fathomless stare, then began to speak again; his voice had dropped back down to its customary soft, dangerous pitch.

"I made potions for Voldemort," he said. "And eventually, once I had proved myself, I, assisted by several other Death Eaters, developed curses and untraceable poisons. I was considered one of the greatest minds of Voldemort's organization." His pride rang out unmistakably through the still room. "Though I was not a member of the Inner Circle at that time, my position among the Death Eaters was one that many envied. I was prominent among his intellectuals."

"Yet you say you left the Dark Lord," said Crouch. "Tell us of that. As yet you have done nothing but strengthen the case against yourself."

"I left Voldemort," Snape said softly, "When I became aware of the levels to which he had stooped. Nothing was too squalid for the Dark Lord anymore. Not mass murder, not the torture of innocent people, nothing. He had been reduced to pure force with no thought behind it. In the beginning it was political murders and torture was something used only when absolutely necessary to gain information. In the beginning Voldemort was rallying the power and intelligence to coax the world over to his side. But he let himself get caught up in the euphoria of power. He let himself be swept away in the tide of utter control that leads only to destruction - destruction of the world and ultimately, destruction of himself. All intelligent thought was lost; his organization was deteriorating into one that would do anything for a bit of power without considering the risks or possible consequences. It was dangerous. And so I left."

Snape's cool assessment of the feared Dark Lord had shaken many in the courtroom. Minerva was impressed with the aplomb of the greasy young man, and, looking at Albus, she could tell he felt the same way.

"So you left," Crouch repeated. There was silence for a moment, then he turned to Albus and said, "Dumbledore, if you would like to give your statement now."

Albus stood and stepped out away from the benches. "Severus Snape came to me when he left the Dark Lord's service," he said. "He came to me because he knew I would listen to his story. He did not come to the Ministry because he knew that the Ministry would lock him in Azkaban on the evidence of the Dark Mark on his arm. He knew that in Azkaban his considerable intellect would be put to no use. At the time he came to me, Voldemort did not know of his conversion. I saw an excellent opportunity to gain inside information from Voldemort's Inner Circle, which Severus had just recently been admitted to." There was a slight pause. Minerva wondered if her name would be brought up at all.

"I took it," Albus went on. "It was what I had been hoping for for years - a spy who was trusted by Voldemort, yet could be trusted by myself, and was placed in such an advantageous position as to be able to gain the most secret information from the Dark Lord. Severus was perfect for my purposes."

"And you never saw any sign of dishonesty in him?" Crouch asked sharply.

"There was none," Albus said calmly.

"So you say he is innocent."

Penetrating blue eyes met fathomless black, and Albus spoke, his gaze locked on Snape's.

"I never said he was innocent," he said gently. "After a time of such utter darkness, I am not sure if anyone is completely innocent. But Severus deserves no punishment for what he has done. In my eyes he has exonerated himself completely." Albus broke the connection with Snape, looking over at Crouch and the jury. "But I have no power here," he said. "I can only hope that you agree with me."


End file.
